


Maulkin

by The13thBlackCat



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Gen, Interspecies Relationship(s), Multi, Organized Crime, Romance, Slow Build, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are tales of famous--or infamous--thieves throughout Tamriel's history, clever and quick, skilled and charming, equally feared and admired. </p><p>Mrrsizha is not one of them. She's just a normal Khajiit with sticky fingers, a handful of lockpicks, too much ambition, and not quite enough sense.</p><p>But in Riften, she found what might be her chance to be remembered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly AU setting. Which is to say, it's set approximately two decades after the events of Morrowind (though everything else is the same as canon Skyrim), and in this AU Morrowind was never destroyed, because I am emotionally attached to that province and refuse to believe I did so much for it only to have it fall down go boom as soon as I looked away. It's not really intrinsic to the story, but the province will be brought up a couple times here and there.

   " _They say the Iliac Bay  
  Is the place to barrel around  
  Without a bit of apparel on,  
  As advertised in that carol song..._ "  
  
  The song was soft enough that it almost couldn't be heard over the quiet sounds of Windhelm at night. Someone who was listening very closely, however, could have traced it back to a small figure that seemed to chiefly be a bundle of dark fur, crouched in front of a door belonging to one of the large houses near the city walls.  
  
  " _...a tune that's sung as the west wind blows  
  About how it's lovely not wearing any clothes,  
  Ladies singing high notes, men singing lows..._ "  
  
  Under the fur--a heavy winter cloak that looked to have once been a wolf, or several--was a small, white Khajiit, staring very intently at the lock in front of her as she sang. She was methodically wiggling a thin bit of metal around in it, her ears pricked forward to catch the telltale clicking of a tumbler breaking. She had been there for two minutes now and finished her song once already, but she was more stubborn than the lock would prove to be. She always was.  
  
  " _...implying that the most luscious depravity,  
  And complete absence of serious gravity,  
  Can only be found in the waterous cavity  
  Of Iliac Bay..._ "  
  
  Mrrsizha paused for a beat and her pick snapped. She had never actually heard the song set to music--she didn't even know what it was called--but the man who she had learned it from had always paused here. She extracted her pick, replaced it with one from a pouch at her hip, and started over. The first three tumblers broke cleanly under her prodding, slipping into place with a series of tiny clicks, but the fourth was giving her some trouble. _You can't play hard to get forever..._  
  
  " _If you are the type who is more a sinner than a sinned,  
  You'll find it all in Morrowind..._ "  
  
  A heartbeat before she reached the last note in "Morrowind", she felt it give: the last tumbler suddenly clicked and the lock opened neatly. The Khajiit's whiskers flicked and, smiling, she carefully removed her pick and the shiv she used to twist the lock open. She stored them away in the pouch they'd come from and looked up, casting her eyes across the empty streets. Her ears perked and flicked, turning to catch any sound indicating the presence of another: finding nothing, she cracked the door, peering into the darkened room before she slipped inside.  
  
  For a moment, she was silent, taking in the room and thinking. The bottom floor was largely devoted to the dining room, it seemed, but that didn't interest her much: she had been watching this house for almost a week, now, and she had already formulated a plan. The owner was a Nord, of course, and older, either unmarried or a widower. He had a slight limp in his left leg, but Mrrsizha didn't fancy getting into a fight with him: Nords were fearsome fighters, and had too many advantages over her. She didn't plan to linger long here and risk him catching her, so she had to make it worth her effort and time.  
  
  Her eyes flicked to the stairs. Bedrooms were always upstairs in these houses. Storage too, sometimes. The side of the house opposite of the stairs smelled like fire and wood and herbs: the kitchen, almost certainly. There wouldn't be much of interest there.  
  
  Mrrsizha rose from her crouch, heading for the stairs. Right when she got to the foot of them, though, she caught a whiff of a scent that made her duck out of sight in alarm.  
  
  It wasn't human: similar, yes, but higher and airier, more magical. An elf. There was an ashy darkness to the scent that confused her: the smell belonged to a dark elf. _Why would a dark elf be in here?_  
  
  Her tail flicked and she let out a quiet breath, her mind racing. It made no sense for a dark elf to be in a Nord's home, not here in Windhelm. There were too many other scents over it, though--wood and stone and dust and Nord, primarily--for her to tell how recent it was, at least from where she stood. The elf might have been here hours ago...maybe as long as a day ago, even.  
  
  _It didn't matter._ Mrrsizha closed her eyes for a second and took a breath. She had a job to do: she'd already broken two picks on the damn lock, so she wasn't leaving empty-handed.  
  
  The Khajiit turned her attention back to the stairs, venturing up them slowly. She was careful to step as close to the wall as possible: the wood was less likely to creak there, where it had the most support.  
  
  She made her way to the top of the stairs without incident, concentrating. The elf-smell was stronger here: it belonged to a woman, and lacked the staleness of an old scent. She had been here recently. Mrrsizha's ears flicked and she crouched in the shadows, out of sight, and took a breath through her mouth.  
  
  _Fresh. She was still here._ Mrrsizha let out the breath, resisting the urge to fidget in place--fidgeting made noise, perhaps enough for an elf or a human to pick up. She hadn't planned for another person.  
  
  Still, it was very late. The Nord would be asleep by now, almost certainly. The elf...the elf was an unknown.  
  
  _Alright. You can do this, Mrrsizha. There's just a new rule in the game now, that's all._ She nodded slightly in agreement with herself, scanning the room for any immediate threats before leaving her hiding spot, her heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and fear.  
  
  _After all, this was the sort of thing that made it fun._  
  
  She was so busy concentrating on avoiding the elf's scent that she didn't realize she'd been caught until the owner of the house yelled.  
  
  Mrrsizha bolted for the stairs without thinking, her heart leaping into her throat. She didn't have time to play with window latches, but if she could just get back to the door she came through, she'd be _safe_ \--  
  
  A large hand closed around her arm and jerked her back so roughly she was certain it had almost pulled her arm out of socket, and she whirled with a yowling cry, lashing out with her free hand. Before the Nord could react, his head was jerked back, there was a flash of silver across his throat, and it opened in a gush of red.  
  
  Mrrsizha slipped her arm free of his rapidly-loosening grasp and skipped back, barely avoiding the gout of blood. Her hands went to the hilts of her swords as the Nord collapsed, grasping at his throat; in what seemed to be only a few seconds, he fell to the floor and lay still.  
  
  Mrrsizha's eyes snapped up, her teeth bared in a silent snarl, and she finally saw who had killed him: it was the dark elf woman she'd been smelling, stepping back carefully to avoid the growing pool of blood and looking down at the dead man between them in annoyance.  
  
  "You should've just been asleep," she muttered to him. Her voice was flat with irritation and high for a dark elf. She looked up at Mrrsizha, her ears flicking once. "Are you okay?"  
  
  Mrrsizha blinked in silence at her for a second, but didn't relax. _What was she doing here? What did she want?_ The dark elf held her empty hand up, kneeling slowly to wipe her dagger's blade clean on the Nord's clothing before standing again. She didn't seem hostile, though. Mrrsizha's eyes cut to the body between them.  
  
  To her, at least.  
  
  The Khajiit let out a little breath, letting some of the tension drain out of her. She didn't remove her hands from her swords, however. "...yes."  
  
  "Good." The dark elf sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at the Nord again. "Damn. That was messier than I'd planned." She reached up to brush her dark hair back behind one ear, frowning. "I doubt someone heard that, but I don't want to risk it. We'd better get out of here."  
  
  Mrrsizha let out a breath, finally letting her hands slip from her hilts. She stepped primly over the Nord's body without turning her back to the dark elf, watching her out of the corner of her eye. "We have a few minutes."  
  
  The dark elf didn't answer, turning to watch as Mrrsizha edged past her. The Khajiit ducked into one of the bedrooms, keeping an ear towards where the elf had last been. The fact that she was surprisingly amicable didn't make them friends.  
  
  She heard footsteps and turned abruptly, only to see the elf stop short in the doorway, holding her hands up. "Hey. Didn't mean to startle you. Just wondering what you were doing."  
  
  Mrrsizha huffed, watching the elf with narrowed eyes for a second before turning her attention back to the room. "What I came here for."  
  
  The elf didn't respond as Mrrsizha rifled through the furniture in the room, pocketing anything of value: a few gold coins, a silver necklace, pair of golden rings.  
  
  "Oh, a thief. I thought so." Mrrsizha looked up when the elf spoke again and she shrugged slightly, raising her eyebrows. "What? I mean, that's what everyone _says_ about Khajiit, yeah, but when you find one sneaking around a house at night..."  
  
  "You're very chatty," Mrrsizha answered, pursing her lips. The elf shrugged again.  
  
  "It's part of my charm."  
  
  "Right..." Mrrsizha stared at her, puzzled, as she stepped past her.  
  
  The elf left to go downstairs while she checked the other rooms, but she hadn't made her escape yet: Mrrsizha could still smell her, and hear her muttering to herself as she toyed with various items downstairs. The Khajiit cast her eyes upwards for a moment when she paused at the top of the stairs, sighing. _What is she doing?_  
  
  When she got downstairs, the elf looked up, ears pricking. "You done? Good."  
  
  Mrrsizha stared at her for a moment, uneasy. "Why are you still here?"  
  
  "Ah." The elf glanced around, rubbing the back of her neck. "I just..." She sighed. "Okay, there's not a way this won't sound strange, I guess. But...do you have a place to hide out?" She exhaled. "I didn't save your ass just to let the guards get you, okay? Especially since you've seen me."  
  
  For a moment, Mrrsizha was indignant, until she realized the dark elf _had_ saved her ass, for all intents and purposes. She frowned at the thought. She didn't like having debts.  
  
  "...I'll manage," she answered slowly. It was as good a time to leave town as any, really. She was sick of Windhelm anyway: it was cold and miserable and full of terrible people.  
  
  The elf's ears flicked and she pursed her lips, looking at Mrrsizha quietly. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Mrrsizha's tail tip began to flick nervously.  
  
  Finally, the elf looked up, glancing away. Almost casually, she asked, "Skipping town?"  
  
  Mrrsizha didn't answer, folding her ears back. _What was she..._  
  
  "Because if you are," the elf continued without waiting for her answer, "now would be a good time. Nobody will be looking for us until morning, at the earliest."  
  
  Mrrsizha's ears flattened. "'Us?'"  
  
  "Well, yeah, if you let me come with you, anyway." She jerked her chin up, towards the stairs. "I'm the one who killed him, remember? Anyway, this place is a shithole." She crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. "So we leave town together, put some distance between us and here, and you can drop me off at the next stop. Anyway, it's better to travel in groups in the wild."  
  
  Mrrsizha considered for a moment, raising her ears slowly. She didn't know anything about this woman--not even her name--but...she glanced back at the stairs. Leaving town would be best, and she was right about traveling together.  
  
  And, like it or not, she owed her a debt. The Khajiit let out a little breath. Maybe she could get a chance to repay it before they split up. Life-debts were the worst sort to have.  
  
  "...alright." She turned to the door, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder at the elf. Starting off too suspicious of the other woman wouldn't help their brief alliance.  
  
  _And besides, it's not like she can sneak up on me._  
  
  "Perfect." The elf followed her out into the night, and didn't say another word. Mrrsizha cut through the back alleys on her way to the gate, taking the pathways through the city that the guards rarely frequented. At the gate, though, the elf stopped her.  
  
  "Hey." She cast her eyes around briefly, glowing dim red in the dark. "Meet up at the stables? I need to get a few things first."  
  
  Mrrsizha just nodded, and the elf backed away before turning to head off into the city. The Khajiit didn't give her a second glance, slipping out the gates and making her way down the bridge.  
  
  She was aware of the guards watching her as she left, but they didn't move to stop her. It was too late for them to care about a lone Khajiit, like as not, and they were probably just happy that she was _leaving_ the city. She made her way to the stables and ducked into the shadows to wait.  
  
  For a few moments, she pondered leaving the elf behind. She knew nothing about her, after all, and Mrrsizha was no stranger to traveling Skyrim's roads, even on her own: the Khajiit caravans had to travel constantly, after all, and she had been on her own since she left her caravan two years ago. She had always managed to get by, and she didn't doubt she could continue to do so without the elf's help.  
  
  _But it would be easier with her._ She sighed softly through her nose. And she didn't seem too bad, for a murderer. Anyway, she said she would leave at the first stop.  
  
  Mrrsizha closed her eyes, weighing her options in silence.  
  
  She heard the elf approach before she saw her and stepped out of the shadows, crossing her arms. The dark elf had returned with a pack over her shoulder and a lantern hanging off her belt, glowing dimly in the dark. Mrrsizha squinted at the light and resisted the urge to hiss at it.  
  
  "Alright. Let's go. I almost had to cut that man's throat to get my damn money. Ridiculous." She huffed out an annoyed breath.  
  
  Mrrsizha's ears flicked, but that was her only response as she set off down the road east. _Money, hm. So she's an assassin?_ It made sense, Mrrsizha supposed. She hadn't seemed very concerned about killing the Nord, and it explained why she'd been in his house at all.  
  
  Her brain buzzed with a hundred thoughts while they walked, not so quickly as to look like they were fleeing but quickly enough to put distance between them and Windhelm. "Where to head next" was first among them.    
  


* * *

  
  
  "So, do you come with a name, or...?"  
  
  Mrrsizha looked up when the elf spoke up. They had been walking for a few hours in an agreeable sort of silence, and only now had she said so much as a word. The Khajiit looked back, considering her answer.  
  
  After a second, the elf shrugged, her eyes wide in an innocent look that was surely affected: murderers weren't exactly "innocent". "What? I can't just call you 'cat'. I mean, I guess I _could,_ but I gather that's rude."  
  
  "Mrrsizha," she said finally. Under the circumstances, she didn't think giving out her name would hurt much. Anyway, most people couldn't be bothered to remember it. Apparently her name was complicated for everyone but Khajiit.  
  
  "Mer-sieze...sihz...?" The elf blinked, flicked her ears, and pouted a little. "How about I just call you 'Mrr' instead?"  
  
  Mrrsizha twitched her whiskers, then gave a slight shrug in response. She'd been called worse things.  
  
  "Mrr, then." The elf picked up her pace a little, until she caught up with Mrrsizha, and looked down with a cheerful smile. "Fadali."  
  
  The Khajiit gave a slight nod, trying not to be too baffled by Fadali's friendliness. "Fadali."  
  
  "Exactly." She huffed out a little breath. "Though, honestly, 'you grey whore' got used a lot more than my actual name. I actually started answering to it, if you can believe it." When Mrrsizha blinked at her in surprise, she added, "Nords don't like Dunmer much. They like us less in Windhelm."  
  
  Despite herself, Mrrsizha couldn't help snorting in response. "Nords don't like _anyone_ but themselves in Windhelm."  
  
  Fadali laughed shortly at that. "Tell me about it." She let out a breath, creating a soft fog in the air, and shifted her shoulders slightly, pulling her cloak tighter. It was black fur, like Mrrsizha's, and smelled faintly like wolf. "So, Mrr, do we actually have any idea where we're going?"  
  
  "Away from Windhelm?"  
  
  Fadali chuckled at that. "Obviously. But after that."  
  
  Mrrsizha didn't answer immediately, pursing her lips and thinking. She had never traveled far from the middle of Skyrim before. Her caravan had a route that ran from Markarth to Windhelm, and she hadn't deviated much from it yet. But, honestly, she was starting to get bored with it. Petty thieving was doing its job keeping her alive, but she wanted more than that.  
  
  A dim memory surfaced, of an old rumor she'd heard at some point: there was a hold city in the southwest of Skyrim, supposed to be full of thieves, cutthroats, and other lowlife scum. She couldn't help but realize it would be significantly warmer in the south, too. Her fur fluffed for a moment at the thought. _Heat would be welcome._  
  
  "...Riften," she answered finally. "I'm going to Riften." She looked at the elf, cocking her head slightly. "You?"  
  
  "Well, first stop, like I said...though I don't really know where that is, exactly." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Probably some little village nobody's heard of, right?"  
  
  "Kynesgrove is on the way," Mrrsizha answered, recalling the settlements nearby. "Or Shor's Stone, past that. It's bigger." She frowned. "Except for those two, though, I don't know." She tilted her head. "Just little villages nobody's heard of."  
  
  Fadali huffed and nodded. "Yeah."  
  


* * *

  
  
  Kynesgrove was their first stop, as it turned out, and they arrived there shortly after morning. Fadali had started yawning first, about an hour before they got to the village, and Mrrsizha was finding it hard to resist doing so herself.  
  
  Kynesgrove was a small village, consisting of little more than a few small houses, a mining camp, and the Braidwood Inn, which was easily the largest building in the village. There was a dark-haired Nord woman out sweeping the inn's porch when they arrived, and she looked up at one of Fadali's yawns. She raised a hand in greeting, calling, "Hail, friends. Traveling?"  
  
  Fadali yawned again, so Mrrsizha answered. "For most of the night, yes. We're headed to Riften."  
  
  "Riften's a bit of a walk away. Why not come in and rest a spell?" Before Mrrsizha could answer, Fadali nudged her back gently.  
  
  "Mrr..." Her voice was quiet, but there was a little bit of a whine in it. Mrrsizha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Of course they had to stop. They needed supplies, if nothing else._  
  
  She nodded to the Nord woman, who beamed a little in answer. She turned to lead them inside, beginning, "My name's Iddra. The inn's mine, but my husband runs most everything else. He's a bit...rough...but he's not such a bad man. With luck, you probably won't meet him."  
  
  It was dim inside the inn, with the coals from last night still low in the firepit. Iddra continued talking as she led them to the counter, leaning her broom against it. "Will you be staying long? We could use the business, and after a full night of travel..."  
  
  "...we could use the rest," Fadali finished for her. The elf crossed her arms, looking down at Mrrsizha with a very slight pout. Mrrsizha just flicked her tail once.  
  
  "She's right. We could." The Khajiit's ears flicked, and she added, "And supplies. We lost ours on the road."  
  
  Iddra's eyebrows raised. "Trouble?"  
  
  "Not much," Mrrsizha continued smoothly, since Fadali was blinking quickly, looking a bit caught off guard. "Just wolves. It was a whole group of them, though, and we had to run...I dropped my pack to slow them down, and, well, here we are."  
  
  Iddra nodded in understanding, leaning on the counter. "They can get nasty around here sometimes. They usually ignore you, but if they're hungry enough...I know it hasn't been a great year for game." She gave a slight shrug before straightening. "We should have enough to get you to Riften around here. You two been traveling long?"  
  
  "Since Whiterun," Mrrsizha answered. "Our last stop was the Nightgate Inn." She sighed, ruffling her hair and looking over her shoulder sheepishly. "We should have just stopped in Windhelm, but..."  
  
  "Well," Fadali continued, gesturing to the two of them, "we didn't think we'd be...welcome, there. We thought we could just push ourselves a bit and get here instead, and then the wolves..."  
  
  Iddra nodded again with a sympathetic little frown. "Of course. You probably made the right decision, though, being what you two are...no offense. Just the folks in Windhelm can be a bit quick to judge, and I hear they're having trouble with the dark elves up there. They wouldn't be happy seeing another one."  
  
  "Exactly," Fadali answered with a little breath of relief. Mrrsizha couldn't help but be impressed with how genuine it sounded. Though, she supposed a killer-for-hire would be good at lying.  
  
  "Well, how about this." Iddra pushed herself back from the counter. "I'll get you two ladies settled in here, and see what I can pack up for you. By the time you're ready to head for Riften, you should be good to go."  
  
  They agreed and Fadali insisted on paying. Mrrsizha was happy to let her--anyway, it went with their story--and Iddra led them to one of the rooms after she had counted the gold. Only then did Mrrsizha realize how tired she was: she was asleep almost the second she hit the bed.  
  


* * *

  
  
  She woke slowly, as was usual for her, and the first thing she was aware of was voices in the main room.  
  
  "...was a dragon that attacked Helgen. Burnt it clear to the ground!" The first voice was a man's, and judging by the tones, probably a Nord. Mrrsizha wasn't surprised. Most everyone seemed to be a Nord in Skyrim, after all.  
  
  "A dragon? Come off it, Roggi. The dragons are all dead. If anything, it's just some fool out there with too much mead in him, telling wild tales. If Helgen _did_ burn down, it was bandits, not dragons." That was Iddra, speaking with a sort of fondness that Mrrsizha took to mean they were friends.  
  
  "Well, that's what I heard, anyway. Can't say if it's true." A bottle clinked.  
  
  "Huh. Well, Helgen's a ways off, anyway. I doubt their 'dragons' will be bothering us here."  
  
  "Mm." There was a moment of silence, then Roggi began, "You see that Stormcloak fellow that came by?"  
  
  "No. Why?"  
  
  "Fearsome-looking sort. I forget his name. Storvald, Stovald, something like that. Says he's a guard from Windhelm."  
  
  "What's a Windhelm guard doing here?"  
  
  "That's the thing. There was a murder up there, apparently, sometime last night. He's out after the one who did it. Says it was a dark elf, and he thinks they headed down this way. Probably making a run for Morrowind."  
  
  Mrrsizha's eyes snapped open, her breath catching. She stared across the room at Fadali, still asleep. The Khajiit tried to ignore the hammering in her chest, holding her breath and listening.  
  
  "A dark elf?" Iddra's voice had quieted a little, and she was clearly thinking...of them, Mrrsizha was sure. "There was an elf, came in early this morning. Said she was from Whiterun, but..."  
  
  "Eh, well, it might be nothin'." Roggi shifted a little, and wood creaked. "You know how they are in Windhelm. Everything is the dark elves' fault. And he didn't say if it was a woman or not. But still, just the same..."  
  
  "Well, she doesn't seem like a murderer, and she said she passed by Windhelm entirely on the way here," Iddra answered, slowly. "They must have seen her, and might have thought it was suspicious, with the murder and all...he say anything about a Khajiit?"  
  
  "Not that I remember, no. Just the elf. Anyway, he's up in the mine right now, checking to see if his elf's hiding out in there. We told him there was no way an elf snuck in, but he insisted. I wasn't willing to argue with him, myself."  
  
  "Oh, Divines. I hope Kjeld's not being difficult."  
  
  Mrrsizha stopped listening then, sitting up. She slipped her boots on quickly and shook Fadali awake.  
  
  "Mmm...? What izzit?" The dark elf yawned, blinking at Mrrsizha sleepily.  
  
  "We have to go," Mrrsizha answered, keeping her voice as low as she could. "There's a guard looking for you."  
  
  That woke her up: Fadali sat up, brushing her hair out of her face and looking at Mrrsizha intently. "A guard...? Why? Windhelm?"  
  
  Mrrsizha nodded. "A Storvald, or Stovald. He knows about..." She trailed off, drawing a claw over her throat. Fadali nodded, letting out a little breath.  
  
  "Storvald. It's Storvald. He's a pain in the ass. Tried to arrest me once, but couldn't prove anything. He's been following me around ever since. Dammit." She pulled her boots on one-handed, raking the other hand through her hair to brush it into some semblance of order. It wouldn't do to look like they were rushing to leave, after all. "Okay. Let's go."  
  
  Mrrsizha nodded, taking a breath and letting it out slowly to calm her nerves as she gathered up her swords and cloak. Fadali was already strapping her dagger back to her belt and hefting her pack over her shoulder. Mrrsizha stepped out ahead of her as she retrieved her own cloak, trying her best to look calm.  
  
  "Oh, you two are up." Iddra looked up when she left the room, with Fadali behind her. The only other person there was a blond Nord man leaning on the counter where he'd been talking to Iddra. Mrrsizha assumed he was Roggi. Iddra bent to retrieve something behind the counter, continuing, "You two leaving now, or are you staying for lunch? I've got some rabbits roasting, if you're interested."  
  
  Mrrsizha cast a little sideways glance at Fadali, but the elf wasn't looking at her. She smiled cheerfully, nodding. "Lunch sounds lovely. We do have a ways to go, after all."  
  
  "Aye, and Riften's not going anywhere without you," Iddra agreed. "Have a seat."  
  
  Mrrsizha swallowed, thinking _be calm be calm be calm_ and trying to keep her tail from flicking nervously as she followed Fadali over to one of the tables. She knew staying would look better--it would make them look less suspicious--but that didn't help the dim certainty in the back of her head that Storvald was going to come in any second and recognize Fadali. She was certain Roggi was watching the elf carefully, and tried not to look like she noticed.  
  
  They were served by a shy little Nord girl who must have been Iddra's daughter, judging by her dark hair. She stared openly at them, but didn't say anything, and scampered away as soon as she could. Mrrsizha hoped she just wasn't used to seeing Khajiit or elves.  
  
  She didn't remember much of the meal, her mind too focused on whether or not Storvald was going to appear and how they should leave, _soon_. It was all she could do to avoid bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet while Fadali chatted to Iddra about the road for a few minutes after. Finally, _finally,_ they collected the supplies Iddra had packed up for them and left.  
  
  Mrrsizha sucked in a breath of air once they stepped outside, certain now that they were safe. They just had to get back on the road, and they would be clear once they were out of Kynesgrove...  
  
  She caught a flash of Stormcloak blue out of the corner of her eye and felt her throat constrict. Wordlessly, she turned, starting down the road as quickly as she could without looking like she was rushing. Fadali hurried after her, glancing back briefly--and then looking abruptly ahead, hunching her shoulders a little and ducking her head down.  
  
  Storvald must not have seen them, since nobody called after them or followed them. In a few minutes, they were out of the village, and Mrrsizha finally let out a breath.  
  
  Fadali giggled a little in response, then broke out laughing. Mrrsizha glared at her for a moment, but couldn't help but smile...and after a moment, she started laughing too.  
  
  "Divines," Fadali said finally, letting out a breath. "Too close." She looked back. "They'll mention us, you know. He's going to be coming this way."  
  
  Mrrsizha nodded. "Yeah." She exhaled slowly, swishing her tail, and cast her eyes around. "But we're fine out here. Plenty of places to hide in the wild. And we have a head start. Maybe he'll be held up there for a few more hours, if we're lucky. As long as we can get to Riften, we can lose him. If we don't throw him off out here first."  
  
  Fadali nodded slightly, quiet for a moment. "Maybe I can go back to Morrowind, if I have to. The border is right near Riften. He won't follow that far."  
  
  Mrrsizha just nodded, but didn't answer, glancing over her shoulder in silence.  
  
  They didn't see him again--or, in fact, anyone or anything else, except for a giant camp that they made a point to avoid. The road was quiet and peaceful, and neither of them were willing to break the relative silence. Mrrsizha was listening, and she was sure Fadali's silence meant that she agreed that they should put as much distance between them and Kynesgrove as possible before nightfall; they couldn't really afford the luxury of idle conversation.  
  
  They only stopped once it was too dark for Fadali to see without her lantern, slipping off the road to make camp a short distance away, in the shadow of a Dwemer ruin that loomed out of the dark and made Mrrsizha feel a little nervous. While Fadali set to building the base for a small campfire--it made sense for her to do it since she knew a little magic, which Mrrsizha had never bothered to learn--Mrrsizha slipped off into the night, heading back the way they'd come to look for any sign of the Stormcloak.  
  
  Out here, alone in the dark, she was at home. The Khajiit made her way alongside the road, keeping just out of sight. Not that it would matter, she thought: most people were all but blind in the dark. Even without decent foliage to screen her, it was almost too easy. Still, the lack of cover made her nervous; there were plenty of rocks, and a few stands of tall evergreens, but this area of Skyrim was largely flat and open, and she didn't like it.  
  
  She only had to travel back a few miles before she saw the light of another fire, just a little ways off from the giant camp they had passed. Likely, the person who had made the fire had chosen to avoid the camp like they had.  
  
  Quiet as a shadow, the Khajiit darted across the road, making her way towards the fire. She paused, taking a quiet breath and holding it as she listened: the soft rush of wind, insects chirping, and very little else. Nothing to indicate she had been seen.  
  
  She made her way towards the fire, mindful of anything that would make noise or any small, hidden animals that she might startle. Once she was close enough, she nimbly pulled herself onto a rock that helped shelter the camp, concealing herself in the shadows. Even the smallest amount of light on her white fur could give her away--she knew that from experience, and out here, she would be easy to catch.  
  
  It was a largely unremarkable camp, aside from the man it belonged to. He wore the chain armor of a Stormcloak soldier, and Mrrsizha was sure he must be Storvald. After all, what other Stormcloak would be out here alone? He had a severe, harsh look to him that she didn't like, and a long scar across one side of his face. Whatever had given him that scar had taken his eye: it was milky white. She was certain that whatever it was had lost more than an eye, though.  
  
  He was almost certainly a fearsome warrior, judging by the look of him, and probably a very good guard. Mrrsizha hated that combination. One or the other was bad enough, and both together was much worse.  
  
  She backed away a little, resisting the urge to sigh. If she had been able to, she would have killed him now: it was the logical thing to do, after all. But there was too much light around him, and she didn't trust herself to be able to get close without being found out. Even if she did, she didn't think she could kill him quickly. She wasn't strong enough to get through his armor in one blow, and he was too tall for her to get at his throat. Anyway, she didn't like killing if she could help it.  
  
  It wasn't worth risking her skin over. She was sure they could get to Riften ahead of him, and there, they would be safe. He wasn't the first guard Mrrsizha had had to lose in a city before.  
  
  She was about to slip off into the woods when something caught her eye: his helmet, gleaming dully, just inside the light of the fire. Storvald was turned away from her, however. She could probably take it without him noticing...immediately, at least.  
  
  Her fingers twitched. The Khajiit's eyes flicked to Storvald, then back to his helmet.  
  
  _It wasn't worth it._ She knew that. It was a silly, petty thing to risk getting  
caught for. She shouldn't.  
  
  _But._ The thought of his reaction when he realized--realized someone had _been there,_ and he'd never known--was too much. Holding her breath, the Khajiit crept forward, her eyes on the Stormcloak. The tips of her claws had just brushed the edge of the helmet when something sent a rock clattering behind her and he looked up. She grabbed it and bolted, even as the smell of deer flooded her nostrils and a doe bounded towards her, almost running her over in her haste. Biting her tongue to keep from screaming in surprise, Mrrsizha threw herself to the ground: the deer leapt over her, scrambled for a moment, then disappeared into the night.  
  
  Mrrsizha was back on her feet almost instantly, darting off in the direction of her camp.  
  
  _Just a deer, it was just a deer._ Mrrsizha slowed to a jog after a few moments, turning to look back, then a walk once she got to the road, clutching her prize. There was no commotion behind her, so if he'd heard her, he must have mistaken her for the doe. She broke into a little grin, her heart fluttering in her chest. That suited her fine. He'd figure it out eventually.  
  
  She made her way back more quickly than she'd come, taking the road now and making no attempt to stay hidden. After all, she knew where he was now. By the time she got back, Fadali was cooking. She looked up when the Khajiit stepped into the light, ears pricking.  
"Thank the Divines. I thought something had happened to you. What..." She trailed off as Mrrsizha bent to place the Stormcloak helmet down before going to sit cross-legged across the fire from her.  
  
  "He's a few miles behind us," she answered, curling her tail around herself. "He must have left not long after we did, or he's faster than he looks. He's alone, though, at least."  
  
  Fadali blinked in surprise, looking up at Mrrsizha. Her eyes cut to the helmet. "Is that...?"  
  
  Mrrsizha grinned. "He'll figure out it's missing sooner or later."  
  
  The elf started laughing at that, though she quieted quickly. "Gods, how did you even get that close?" She broke into a wicked grin suddenly, looking back towards the road. "Think we should leave it in the road for him?"  
  
  The Khajiit's ears pricked. _Oh, I like her._  
  
  "I like the sound of that."  
  


* * *

  
  
  They next morning they woke early and left after a quick, cold breakfast, stopping only long enough to place Storvald's helmet in the center of the road, facing back the way they'd come. Either he would find it that day, or something else would; Mrrsizha didn't much care either way. He would notice its absence this morning, if he hadn't already, and that was enough for her.  
  
  Plants had begun to take root around them, widely-spaced but with green grass and low bushes filling the area between them. The evergreens were still here, but other trees had joined them. Mrrsizha didn't recognize them, but they were very pretty: all slender grey-and-black trunks and bright green-yellow leaves.  
  
  "We should be in the Rift by now," Fadali remarked finally, looking up at the trees as they passed. Mrrsizha gave her a questioning look and she gestured to them. "See those? Part of the Fall Forest. That's how you know you're in the Rift."  
  
  "You've been through here before?"  
  
  "Only once." The elf shrugged slightly. "When I came from Morrowind. I don't remember much. The trees, though...they only grow down here, and we don't really have anything like them in Morrowind. They stick in your head."  
  
  Mrrsizha was quiet for a moment, pondering that. Shor's Stone was near the border between the Rift and Eastmarch; they would probably be coming on it soon. "What do you have in Morrowind?"  
  
  "Mushrooms, mostly," Fadali answered. She gestured upwards. "As tall as trees, but not as pretty. They're called Emperor Parasol. Good for keeping the rain off, at least. Better than trees are. And I guess they have decent wood...stuff. Whatever mushrooms are made of. Not good for much else, though."  
  
  Mrrsizha blinked at her in surprise, trying to process the mental image of mushrooms the size of trees. Her eyes flicked to a towering evergreen on the roadside. "You have _giant mushrooms?_ "  
  
  Fadali grinned at that, her ears raising. "Yeah. Some mages make houses out them." The elf gestured widely. "Just use magic to grow them however they want, into towers and...and whatever else. I never liked the mushroom-house idea much, though. They're impressive, sure, but ugly as sin, and you have to levitate _everywhere_ in them. I'd rather walk."  
  
  Mrrsizha eyed her critically for a second, her ears going flat. Fadali blinked at her innocently. "What? They _do!_ "  
  
  The Khajiit snorted. "Of course they do."  
  
  "They _do,_ " Fadali insisted. "Look, ask anyone who's been to Morrowind. Everyone talks about the stupid mushrooms. You'll see." She snorted, adding in a low voice, "Like you don't have any strange buildings in Elsweyr."  
  
  "We might," Mrrsizha answered, flicking her whiskers, "but I'm sure I don't know. I was born here."  
  
  "You...?" Fadali cocked her head, blinking. "Oh. I didn't think...well, never mind. Fine. So can we both agree Khajiit probably build strange things too, since neither of us know?"  
  
  Mrrsizha snorted. "Well, we don't build mushrooms."  
  
  The Dunmer huffed. "We don't _build_ them. We _magic_ them."  
  
  "That's not how you use that word."  
  
  "Like you would know. I probably know more about magic than you."  
  
  Mrrsizha was about to retort, but just then, they rounded a curve in the road, and she saw the outline of a few buildings through the trees.  
  
  "Shor's Stone." The settlement looked too big to be anything else, though it was plainly too small to be anything but a large village. Mrrsizha stopped, glancing at Fadali. "We should probably avoid it." She glanced back. "Fewer people to see us."  
  
  Fadali nodded and they slipped off the road, disappearing into the thin woods around the village. It was only once they'd passed it entirely when they decided to stop for lunch. They didn't linger long, though, both of them aware that Storvald might not be stopping like they were.  
  
  It was a few hours later when the forest started to change. Mrrsizha had noticed it slowly, the evergreens slowly being replaced by their smaller companions. The new trees were getting steadily yellower as they walked, one occasionally deepening into orange or even showing tinges of red. Even the grass seemed to be yellower here, and was spotted frequently with blue, purple, and red flowers, like tiny gems set in gold.  
  
  It was beautiful. Mrrsizha wondered for a moment why she'd never been to the Rift before.  
  
  They stayed off the road this time and made camp not long after dark. Mrrsizha was tempted to go back and see if she could find Storvald again, but she elected not to. She didn't know this part of Skyrim at all, and she didn't trust herself not to get lost in it now that they were surrounded by woods. She stayed awake for a while after Fadali had gone to sleep, listening to the night and taking in the new scents of this strange part of Skyrim. Before the moons had even reached the midway point in their nighttime journey, however, she was asleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
  It was just after midday the next day when Riften finally came into sight.  
  
  It was a small city in comparison to the others Mrrsizha had seen: the sprawling expanse of Whiterun or the ancient stone pathways of Windhelm and Markarth dwarfed it considerably. It had been built on the shores of the lake, and much of the city extended out onto the water, visible from quite a distance.  
  
  The first thing Mrrsizha noticed as they approached was the guard towers. She eyed them cautiously, wandering how many guards might be manning them and how much attention they would be paying to travelers. It was easy to get lost in a city, but it was significantly easier if nobody knew anything about you...including when you had entered the city at all.  
  
  The second thing she noticed was the pair of guards at the gate. They would have normally been unremarkable--after all, a city gate _without_ guards was more noteworthy than one _with_ them--except for the way one of them tensed at their approach, shifting his weight towards them. Mrrsizha felt the fur on the back of her neck lift slightly.  
  
  Once they were close, he called, "Hold. Before I let you into Riften, you have to pay the visitor's tax."  
  
  Behind her, Fadali snorted. "Really? And what is that for?"  
  
  The guard crossed his arms, giving her a critical look from under his hood, dyed the same purple as the Riften banner hanging above him. Above them, Mrrsizha was aware of boots on stone as another guard patrolled the top of the walls.  
  
  "For the privilege of entering the city, elf," the one in front of them answered shortly.  
  
  "That's ridiculous!"  
  
  He shrugged. "You don't want to pay it, you can stay out here."  
  
  Before Fadali could snap back, Mrrsizha held up a hand, cutting her off. She cast her eyes upwards, catching a glimpse of the guard on top of the wall.  
  
  "Clearly," she cut in, pitching her voice to carry and keeping her tone cool, "this is a shakedown. We don't have time for it."  
  
  The guard ahead of them went tense, his hand going to the axe at his hip, hissing, " _Quiet!_ " Mrrsizha felt Fadali go for her dagger behind her, but the Khajiit didn't move; the guard had loosened his axe, but had yet to actually attack. Most likely, he didn't really want the trouble an argument over this would cause. His voice low, he growled, "Do you want everyone to hear you?"  
  
  Mrrsizha folded her ears back, fixing her eyes on his and leaning forward slightly. "Let us in, or I'll _make sure_ everyone hears me." She tried very hard not to consider that he was significantly larger than her, and probably much better in a fight. At the very least, though, his companion didn't seem to want to get involved: the other gate guard was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, just watching.  
  
  The one in front of them exhaled harshly, moving his hand off his axe. "Fine. I'll let you in. Don't cause any damned trouble."  
  
  Mrrsizha's ears lifted at that and she smiled, as sweetly as she could manage. "Thank you."  
  
  The guard didn't answer as he unlocked the gate, but once they had passed through it, Mrrsizha heard him grumble, "Stupid bitch."  
  
  She chuckled softly.  
  
  "Well." Mrrsizha turned when Fadali's steps stopped. The Dunmer had paused, rocking back on her heels slightly. "I guess this is where we split up."  
  
  _Oh. Right._ Mrrsizha couldn't help but feel a little twinge of regret. She had been enjoying having some company, even under the circumstances. But Fadali was right: splitting up would make it easier for both of them to disappear.  
  
  "Right." She turned to the dark elf, reaching up to brush her hair back absentmindedly. "Where are you going?" Then, recalling what the elf had said when they left Kynesgrove, she added, "Morrowind?"  
  
  Fadali hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "No offense, Mrr, but I'd rather not say." She shrugged, her ears dropping a little in a way that Mrrsizha took to be sheepishness. "I'd rather you know as little about me as possible. You know...in case."  
  
  _In case I get caught, you mean,_ Mrrsizha mentally filled in for her. She should've felt irritated at that, probably, but she couldn't manage to--not when Fadali was simply looking out for her own skin. In her position, Mrrsizha would do the same.  
  
  "Right. Of course." She inclined her head slightly. "Well...alright, then. Good luck."  
  
  Fadali nodded back. "You too, Khajiit. Don't get into trouble."  
  
  Before Mrrsizha could answer, she took a step back, waved slightly, and turned to disappear down an alleyway.  
  
  Mrrsizha just frowned for a moment at where the elf had been, a little unhappy. She huffed out a little breath, shaking her head. _No point dwelling on her. She'll be alright._ The Khajiit took a breath, turning to start into Riften.  
  
  She didn't get far, though. Part of a conversation caught her ear, and, distracted by it, she didn't notice the large Nord man who'd been watching her until he stepped into her path and she almost bumped into him. He was easily a foot taller than her, and had to weigh at least twice as much. He was also glaring at her, his thickly muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.  
  
  Mrrsizha felt her stomach do a little flip-flop and abruptly wished Fadali hadn't left quite so soon.  
  
  "Don't know you." He paused to stare at her intently, probably to intimidate her. It worked. "You're not here to cause trouble, are you, kitten?"  
  
  Mrrsizha resisted the urge to bare her teeth at him, largely because she had the distinct impression he could crush her as easily as the kitten he compared her to. In fact, she suspected that might be the basis of the comparison. "Just passing through." She raised her chin slightly, her ears folding back a bit, and flicked her whiskers, trying to look as unimpressed as possible and not like she was considering how fast he could run. _Probably not as fast as her. Probably._  
  
  "Then keep passin'. I'll tell you all you need to know about Riften: there's nothing to see here." He stepped out of her path, leaning against one of the supports for the building on the roadside. "Last thing the Black-Briars need is some stranger stickin' her nose where it don't belong."  
  
  He made a point to look her over, and Mrrsizha felt her tail tip begin flicking irritably. "And the Black-Briars have Riften in their pocket and the Thieves' Guild watchin' their back, so keep your nose out of their business, kitten. Me? I'm Maul. I watch the streets for 'em. That also means I deal with troublemakers."  
  
  _"Like you", I'm sure._ Mrrsizha kept the comment to herself, however, her ears pricking at the other part of his warning, the bit that meant far more to her than the implicit threats of bodily harm if she wasn't smart.  
  
  "The Thieves' Guild, you say?" She tilted her head, watching him intently and crossing her arms. "Last I heard about them...wasn't much. You sure they aren't a myth?"  
  
  "Oh, I _know_ they're not a myth," Maul answered. He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment neither one of them said anything, both sizing one another up.  
  
  "...why do you ask, kitten?" He said finally. There was a bit of a _tone_ to his voice that Mrrsizha couldn't place. Warning, maybe, or calculating curiosity...or both.  
  
  "Call it a...professional interest," she answered slowly.  
  
  "Is it now?" Maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed like that made him relax a little. "Funny you should say so. My brother Dirge works their hideout, that's how I know they're real." He leaned forward some, his voice lowering a touch. "In fact, I used to run with them myself...until they started hittin' a rough patch and I threw in with the Black-Briars. You want in, kitten?"  
  
  _I can not wait for you to stop calling me that._ Mrrsizha kept her annoyance to herself, though, aside from the twitch in her tail, which she was sure he couldn't translate anyway. Humans never could. "I might. I might not."  
  
  "Huh. Not likely that you don't." He leaned back against the pillar behind him again, looking her over again. It felt less judging this time, however, so Mrrsizha didn't mind...so much. "Well, if you decide you _do_ \--" He said it in a way that meant "which I know you already have". "--then you'll want to find Brynjolf. He'll probably be in the marketplace. Usually is. You'll know him when you see him. Red hair, scar on his cheek, shady as a back alley." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm sure _you_ know the type."  
  
  Mrrsizha didn't miss the little emphasis on "you". She would have taken offense, if he hadn't been right. She had grown up around that type, after all.  
  
  "Anyway, get in good with him...maybe you'll get lucky." Maul gave a slight shrug. "And maybe he will. Might be able to use someone like you."  
  
  "Thanks for the info." She inclined her head slightly, turning to leave. Briefly, she considered asking about the Black-Briars, but decided against it. If they were as important as he made them sound, other people would be willing to talk.  
  
  "Be seein' you around," Maul called after her. "Keep out of trouble, kitten."  
  
  Mrrsizha finally allowed herself to roll her eyes once her back was to him, trying very hard to ignore the last bit.  
  
  She followed the sound of merchants calling out their wares and the chatter of people browsing to the marketplace. It was in the center of town, alongside the large canal that ran through it, an open circular area set apart by a low stone wall. She didn't make her way to it immediately, though, instead finding a place at the edge of the canal and hanging back to watch, her eyes flicking across the people going about their business as she tried to get a feel for the flow of the city. Every city had a flavor, a _character_ , and knowing it was one of the most important parts of being there.  
  
  "Never done an honest day's work in your life, have you lass?"  
  
  Mrrsizha looked up abruptly at the voice, a little startled. It belonged to a Nord leaning against the railing beside her, his hands folded. For a second, Mrrsizha was alarmed-- _she hadn't even heard him approach!_ \--but she brushed it away. She had been distracted.  
  
  In any case, he didn't seem too threatening. He looked very much like most Nords, if perhaps better-dressed and better-groomed than some, and his smile seemed to be a genuinely friendly one. The back of her neck prickled warningly, though; she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him than met the eye, even if it was only something so slight that most people wouldn't have noticed.  
  
  Mrrsizha knew better than to ignore her gut. She shifted away from him, eying him carefully. Her eyes flicked to his hands, but they hadn't moved.  
  
  "Excuse me?"  
  
  "What I'm saying is," he answered, still smiling like an indulgent teacher, "not a single septim you've ever earned was earned honestly."  
  
  Mrrsizha straightened slightly, her ears pricking and her eyes narrowing. She didn't know if that was supposed to be an accusation or not, and she wasn't sure of his basis for the statement either: she was a Khajiit, yes, and it was rare that Nords _didn't_ immediately assume Khajiit were thieves, but this...didn't feel like that. In any case, she was alone, and dressed like a common traveler: most people were more willing to trust a Khajiit on her own than one with her caravan.  
  
  "And what makes you say that?" She tilted her head, raising her brows and flicking her whiskers once.  
  
  "Hm." He leaned towards her slightly. "I could tell you it was intuition, and leave it at that." He raised an eyebrow, then gave a slight shrug. "But I'll indulge you. It's simple, lass: you've been sizing up every person who walks past you."  
  
  Mrrsizha raised her chin, leaning back a little as he continued, "I know what you're looking for: who's alert, who isn't, who has the most on them. Where they're going, why, who they're with. Who would notice if you got close...and more importantly, who _wouldn't._ "  
  
  "You're observant," she answered simply, uncertain if that observance made her wary or impressed her. _A bit of both, perhaps._ She didn't like being watched so closely, but the fact that he'd seen so much without her noticing was laudable on its own.  
  
  He chuckled in response, a soft, warm sound. "And so are you. It's all part of sizing up your mark, lass. A necessary skill, in my line of work." He didn't say "as I'm sure you know", but the way the corner of his mouth quirked in a knowing little smile made her suspect he wanted to.  
  
  "Well," She moved suddenly, closing the space between them some, wanting to throw him off-kilter, "tell me this. What 'line of work' is that, and how does it have anything to do with me?"  
  
  He backed off slightly, and Mrrsizha smiled smugly, enjoying her little victory. He didn't seem to notice. "My line of work is wealth, lass," he answered, "and I think you know very well what that has to do with you." He paused for a moment to look her over, and Mrrsizha felt her ears warm in embarrassment; she was acutely aware of the fact that she looked very much like she had rolled out of a ditch this morning. Largely because she almost had.  
  
  "Perhaps you'd like a little taste, lass?" He brought his eyes back up to meet hers, his lips quirking into a little half-smile that almost made her forgive him for reminding her of her shabby state.  
  
  "Depends. What do you have in mind?" Her ears pricked, and by the little intrigued lift in his eyebrows, she thought he saw.  
  
  "Well, you see, I have a little errand I need to perform...but I need an extra set of hands to help me out with it." He reached out to take one of her hands, raising it slightly as if he was about to brush a kiss over her knuckles. "And in my line of work, extra hands are very well paid." A little flourish, and out of nowhere he had produced a single septim, which he passed into her palm before letting her hand go.  
  
  Mrrsizha looked down without taking her eyes off him, fingering the coin thoughtfully. For a second, her eyes drifted: they flicked to the thin scar on his left cheek, long-healed and faded. He had probably gotten it from a knife, years ago. She'd noticed it already, but hadn't thought to pay it much attention until now.  
  
  Her eyes lifted to meet his again, and her ears pricked forward. She was done playing coy and making him earn her full attention. "I'm listening."  
  
  He broke into a triumphant little smile before leaning towards her, his voice lowering as he said, "Here's the deal. I'll create a distraction. What I need you to do is go to Madesi's stall..." He cut his eyes across the market to the lone Argonian stallkeeper. "...and take the silver ring from his lockbox. Then, I need you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket." His eyes traveled from Madesi to a dark-haired Dunmer man in the market.  
  
  "Mmm..." Mrrsizha studied the market's layout briefly, absentmindedly asking, "Why leave the ring on Brand-Shei?"  
  
  "All you need to know is that someone wants him put out of business for a bit, and this is how we'll do it." He pulled away, straightening. "So what do you say, lass? Are you in?"  
  
  Mrrsizha pocketed the septim, absently dusting herself off and making a point to pause, as if considering. He didn't push her for an answer, and after a second she flashed him a bright, innocent smile, and gave a slight nod.  
  
  As she walked off to mingle in the market, she saw him return her smile with his own: the faint, conspiratorial smile of thieves.  
  
  "Gather 'round, everyone, gather 'round! I have something _amazing_ to show you that demands your attention."  
  
  Mrrsizha looked up, ears pricking. A rough voice that sounded like it belonged to a male Dunmer asked, "What is it now, Brynjolf?"  
  
  _Brynjolf._ She smiled. It simply confirmed what she'd already determined.  
  
  "Patience, Brand-Shei. This is a wonderful opportunity and I wouldn't want you to miss it."  
  
  Mrrsizha tilted her head, pretending to be interested, and joined the small crowd Brynjolf was gathering. He didn't let up until he had attracted the attention of everyone in the market, she noticed. She shifted a little, purposely bumping against the Nord woman next to her and murmuring a soft apology. The woman would remember her being there, if any suspicion was cast on her: Khajiit were unusual in Skyrim, even more unusual in cities. So long as the Nord woman remembered standing next to her, she wouldn't remember seeing her fiddling with locks she had no business with.  
  
  "Now...what I have here is something rare and magical, from the far-off reaches of Skyrim: Falmerblood Elixir!"  
  
  Mrrsizha studied the bottles on Brynjolf's stall--they were made of a dark, thick glass. Whatever liquid was in them was red, probably, but that was about all you could tell. She wondered absently what it actually was.  
  
  "What?" It was Brand-Shei who spoke up again. "Falmer? Like from the legends?"  
  
  "The very same!" Mrrsizha shifted, seemingly moving to get a better view, in truth moving closer to Madesi's vacated stall. "The Falmer were incredibly powerful, masters of magic! Just imagine the power contained in their blood..."  
  
  "And how did _you_ get it?" This voice was skeptical and raspy, hissing softly on the right sounds: Argonian. "The Falmer are only legends, or all dead."  
  
  Mrrsizha slipped out of the crowd when the guards weren't looking at her, ducking behind Madesi's stall. She pulled her pick and shiv out of her pouch and set to work on the lock holding the door on the back of the stall shut, keeping half an ear alert for trouble. A lock of this size couldn't have more than two tumblers.  
  
  "Ah, my sources must remain secret for their own safety, but I assure you, Madesi, that this is genuine."  
  
  The tumblers clicked into place in only a second and the lock opened cleanly for her. She slid the door aside to work on the lockbox it guarded, singing softly in her head.  
  
  Madesi made an annoyed, reptilian noise. "That's what you said about the wisp essence, and it was just powdered nirnroot mixed with water!"  
  
  Absentmindedly, she imagined Brynjolf waving off Madesi's protests and couldn't help but smile softly. "That was a small error in judgement. This, I promise you, is the real deal. Think about it...eternal youth, incredible magic power, vast stores of knowledge...all of it could be yours!"  
  
  The lockbox opened as sweetly as if she had asked, revealing its treasures: a garnet the size of her fingertip, a pouch of coins, a silver ring. She resisted the urge to clean it out--Brynjolf had said only to take the ring, and she wasn't going to risk screwing this up--and slipped the small silver circlet onto a finger for safekeeping, shutting the strongbox gently. She left the door slightly open, though, as if forgotten in haste--after all, Brynjolf wanted Brand-Shei caught.  
  
  "How much?" She followed Brand-Shei's voice, slipping through the market like a shadow. She came up behind him; he was sitting on a few boxes by his stall, watching Brynjolf's display. A gap in the boxes left just enough room for her to slip her hand through.  
  
  "This is a special offer--only twenty septims for a bottle!"  
  
  Madesi hissed. "Why do you even _listen_ to him?"  
  
  "You'll have to act quickly, though, I only have a few left--just think, can you afford to pass up this opportunity?"  
  
  The Argonian made a disgusted noise, stalking back off to his stall and attracting attention; Mrrsizha used the distraction to slip his ring off her finger and into Brand-Shei's pocket. She looked up, her eyes meeting Brynjolf's for only a second, then slipped back out to rejoin the crowd, as if she'd never left it.  
  
  Brynjolf continued to play up his "Falmerblood Elixir" for a few moments before faking a nervous look at the guards. "Well! It looks like my time is up. Come back again tomorrow if you're interested in purchase."  
  
  The crowd dispersed, conversing, and Mrrsizha caught Brand-Shei making an annoyed sound. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to that horseshit..." She couldn't help smiling a little at that as she walked off to go lean on the rail where she'd first met Brynjolf.  
  
  He joined her there after a few moments, smiling. She thought he looked proud. "Seems I picked the right person for the job. Your pay, as I promised." He tossed her a small pouch of coins. She weighed it briefly before tucking it away.  
  
  "Happy to do business with you, sir."  
  
  Brynjolf chuckled. Madesi noticed someone had been tampering with his stall and called the guards over; Brynjolf glanced up, then took hold of her arm gently. "Come, lass, I think we'd best make ourselves scarce."  
  
  Mrrsizha nodded and let him loop his arm in hers, leading her off into Riften. As they walked, he began talking. "Really, we're lucky our operation went off without a hitch, the way things have been going lately."  
  
  "Trouble?" The Khajiit flicked her ears and looked at him, her hip bumping against his almost fondly. _Thick as thieves,_ she thought, and had to stifle a giggle.  
  
  "Something like that. My operation has had a run of bad luck lately. But..." He paused to look down at her. "With people like you, I think we can turn it around...if you think you can handle it." He stopped: he'd led her around the marketplace, to the front of a large, walled building that she supposed housed the local jarl, judging by the Riften banners adorning the walls. Mrrsizha made note of it in the mental map she was already building of the city.  
  
  She pulled away a little to face him. "I can handle whatever you care to throw my way."  
  
  His lips quirked into a smile. "Reliable, talented, _and_ headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize, lass." He tilted his head slightly, indicating the lower walkway in the canal below. "If you're interested, come see us sometime in the Ratway. There's a tavern down there called the Ragged Flagon--if you can make it there, you're in." He reached out to take hold of her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. "I hope to see you soon, lass."  
  
  With that, Brynjolf walked off towards the marketplace, seemingly to go see what commotion the guards were stirring up over there. Mrrsizha smiled triumphantly, and decided not to take him up on his offer too soon--she didn't want to look desperate. Instead, she walked back off in the direction of what had looked to be the local tavern.  
  
  Mentally, she welcomed herself home.


	2. Chapter 2

   Several hours later, after she had mapped out part of the city and filched a few small things to see if anyone would notice (they didn't), Mrrsizha found herself down at the Ratway's entrance.

   It was an old, rusted metal gate with a new lock, down by the canal, and no doubt led to the city's sewers. The lock must not have been significantly better than the one it had replaced, she reflected, since it took her only a few seconds to pick. She expected the door to creak loudly when it was opened, but someone had made a point to oil the hinges recently. That made her pause for a moment, considering, but didn't concern her overmuch.

   Past the gate was an old wooden door that led to a small tunnel that smelled of damp stone, sewer, and lakewater. It would have been cramped for most people, Mrrsizha thought, but she was short enough that it didn't bother her much. It was also very dark, and probably would have seemed oppressive to anyone but a Khajiit—once her eyes had adjusted, though, it wasn’t a concern for her.

   She slipped through the tunnel for a short distance, silent and careful, wary of what might be down here. After all, it had sounded like finding her destination would be a challenge...and anyway, sewers could be dangerous. Not many things chose to live in them, and they were usually very bad things.

   She did come upon a pair of human men after a few minutes, arguing, but slipped past them without being noticed, only listening long enough to catch a mention of "the Guild". _So, the right place, then. Probably._

   The tunnels beyond them were dark and ominous, but quiet and uneventful, until she came to a ledge. There was a raised bridge across from her, but no way to get to it that she could see; she knelt at the edge, looking down into the darkness below.

   The drop wasn't far—less than ten feet—and aside from a few rats, the only thing down there was a mid-sized skeever, sniffing at the air. Mrrsizha let out a little breath, glancing back. There had been no branching tunnels, yet, so she didn't have much choice. She just hoped there was an easier way back than climbing.

   Keeping a hand on one of her sword hilts, she dropped off the ledge, landing with little more than a very quiet _thmp._ The skeever's head jerked towards her and it hissed, the fur down its spine lifting into the air. Mrrsizha growled back in answer, low-pitched and warning, her ears flattening against her head. Her tail tip began to twitch rapidly, her fur standing on end.

   Neither of them moved for a moment, the skeever ducking its head for a second like it was uncertain what to do. When Mrrsizha darted forward a step and hissed, sudden and sharp, it bolted. She let it go, lifting her ears with a little huff.

_They're braver down here._ She wasn't surprised, though: the skeevers probably had the run of the place, and must not see enough people that they'd learned to fear them. Anyway, who knew how big they got, unchecked in the dark.

   There was a tunnel entrance to the right, and she followed it. There were several branches here, but she elected to stay with the main tunnel for now: if she had to, she could always turn back.

   There was a door at the end, but she caught herself before she opened it, catching the short cord attached to the corner of the door out of the corner of her eye. She took a step back warily, looking for the trap it activated: to the left, there was a pair of vertical holes in the wall, barely visible even to her sight.

   Careful to stay out of their path, the Khajiit knelt, reaching out to flick the cord gently. It moved only a little, but the trap didn't go off. She let out a little breath, taking the shiv she used for lockpicking out of its pouch. She cut the cord quickly, darting back a step as two dark iron spears erupted from the wall.

   She scowled at them when they began to retract, her eyes flicking over the dark stains on their points. _Charming. Winding tunnels and darkness were too easy, I suppose._ She checked the door again for any back up traps before passing through it.

   There was little beyond, other than a slick of something she suspected might be oil that she was careful to avoid stepping in, and the dull gleam of animal eyes in the shadows. They were red—probably a second skeever, since they were much too big for a regular rat. Whatever it was, though, it stayed back, out of sight. Mrrsizha kept her eye on it all the same as she continued on her way. There was a large room at the end of this tunnel, and she had no sooner stepped into it than she was attacked.

   The Khajiit ducked with a yowl of alarm as a fist swung through the air where her head had been only a second ago, darting to the side and fumbling for her swords. Her foot skipped over a flat metal plate in her retreat, and a heavy iron bear trap snapped shut behind her with a force that would have broken her leg. She swore, loosing one of her swords finally and taking her eyes off the human man who had attacked her long enough to scan the floor—but it was too dark and he was _too close_ and she could only make out the dull gleam of metal points in a few places as she scrambled away from him.

   He must have known where the traps were, since he didn't slow as he approached her, fists clenched. The Khajiit backed away until she sensed a wall at her back, drawing her other sword, then hesitated; she didn't want to corner herself, but she didn't know where else was safe to step in the room.

   The human was close now, and he lunged forward suddenly with a cry; Mrrsizha ducked and darted under his swing, her blade slicing through his dirty tunic and deep into the muscle of his stomach before she jerked it free, turning to face him and backing up the way he'd come, her eyes flicking to the floor. She skipped over a trap and stopped, baring her teeth in a hiss.

   The injury had slowed him, but he was too enraged to be incapacitated by it now; the human whirled and stalked after her with a snarl, blood running down his front.

   He didn't take his eye off her until he stepped in the trap she'd avoided.

   It snapped together with a sharp metallic screech and a more organic, wet _crnch_ as it slammed closed around his leg. The human fell, screaming, his attention thoroughly diverted from Mrrsizha, and the Khajiit took the opportunity to dart forward and slam her swords through his chest.

   He struggled for a moment, then went still. Mrrsizha stepped back with a harsh breath, letting him slid off her blades. She hissed at the body, bending to wipe her swords clean of blood on his clothing before sheathing them.

   Out of habit, she checked his body for anything of value, but found little, besides the gloves he wore: they tingled very slightly at her touch, a telltale indicator of enchantment. She folded them into a neat rectnagle and pocketed them, making note to find someone to sell them to later.

   There was nothing else of interest in the room, so she took her time to cross it, wary of any other bear traps. Past that was a long, empty room with stairs at the end. There was a pressure plate at the top of them, but she saw it and stepped over gingerly. On the other side was a short tunnel that opened into a circular room that made her squint and hiss.

   Light flooded in from a hole in the ceiling. It wasn’t yet late enough to start getting dark, and the sky had been clear. After the darkness of the tunnels, the sunlight was almost blinding. She blinked rapidly, pausing for a moment so her eyes could adjust.

   Some plant life had sprung up here in the small circle of light, breaking through the stone floor to find some purchase in the earth beneath. At the center of the room was an old, stained tree stump with a large iron battleaxe embedded in it. The Khajiit's tail flicked once as she took in the scene. _Wonder who bled there last, and why._

   Doing her best to put the thought out of her head, she slipped past the circle of light, and paused before entering the next room, her ears pricking.

   There was someone ahead. Through the smells of the Ratway, she thought she could pick out a human scent, different than the Nords she was used to. It took her a moment to place it before she tentatively thought, _Redguard?_ Still, the point stood that _someone_ was there, and she'd already been attacked once. She didn't savor being attacked again.

   She pressed herself to the wall, creeping forward along it to look into the room. It was large and mostly empty, except for the table covered in iron tankards roughly in the center and the small wooden cart near it. The human looked to be a Redguard after all, and a woman, wearing ragged clothing and too thin under it. She was at the table with her back towards Mrrsizha, but when the Khajiit shifted back her tail swept against a loose rock and sent it tumbling, and the woman’s head jerked up at the noise.

   She reached for an iron-headed club that had been on the table, hidden behind the tankards. "Who's there?" Her voice was rough and harsh, and Mrrsizha didn't like the slightly wild look in her eyes; the Khajiit ducked back, flattening herself against the wall and holding her breath as the woman began to approach.

   She didn't notice the Khajiit, passing by her entirely as she approached the room behind her. Mrrsizha loosened her swords in their scabbards as quietly as she could, shifting her weight so she could move quickly if she had to. After a moment, the Redguard woman growled, "Fucking skeevers. Them or that damned Imperial...skin either one of them alive if I see them again..."

   Mrrsizha didn't let her finish her thought or turn; she darted out of the shadows, her blades crossing over the woman's throat for a heartbeat before laying it open.

   As the Redguard collapsed, gurgling wetly through her cut throat, the Khajiit backed away, then turned to continue into the room she'd been in. She tried to ignore the twinge of guilt gnawing at her conscience; down here, the woman would have surely attacked her on sight. You didn't end up in the sewers if you weren't insane or a criminal. Anyway, she'd had a _feeling_ about her, and Mrrsizha didn't ignore her gut feelings.

   It would have ended the same either way, surely.

   She frowned in silence as she crossed the room.

   There were a few ways out of the room: a tunnel branching off the side, a gated doorway and a second tunnel on the other side of the room, and a wooden doorway straight ahead. Mrrsizha was trying to decide which path to take when she caught a whiff of something that caught her attention.

_What...?_ It was hard to concentrate through the sewer-stench and lakewater, but there was something...else. Fainter, but...familiar? The Khajiit followed the scent, frowning as she tried to concentrate on it.

   It was strongest by the wooden door, and then she realized why it was familiar: it belonged to the Nord she'd met in the market. She couldn't recall his name—human names seemed to come in about three flavors, and they all sounded the same to her—but she remembered his face, and, faintly, his scent. He'd been through here very recently.

_Ah. On the right path, then._ Her eyes flicked to the door and she paused for a moment to study it. It seemed a bit sturdier than most down here.

   The Khajiit gave a slight shrug and tried the handle. It wasn't locked, so she opened it cautiously, glancing in for a second before stepping through.

   She was greeted by a circular room, much larger than any others she'd passed through. A pool of shallow water took up much of it, but there was a stone pathway along the edge. The water seemed to flow out through a drain on the far left of the room, in shadows.

   Directly across from her was a wooden deck built over the water, and the glow of firelight behind it. Additional light came in from the ceiling: there was a circular opening far above, and she wondered briefly where it led. Stepping over a few rats that scurried past her feet, Mrrsizha started down the right side of the walkway, towards the light. A battered sign reading "Ragged Flagon" greeted her.

   "...at's what you said last time."

   "I know that's what I said, but this one is _different,_ I promise you."

   Mrrsizha's ears pricked, turning towards the voices. The first—male, low, rough—she didn't recognize, but the second she did: the man whose scent she had followed from the door.

   "Give it up, Bryn." The third voice was also unknown: male as well, but higher. Idly, she made a connection in her head: _Bryn, Bryn...Brynjolf. That was it. Damned humans and their confusing names._ "Just accept it, old friend, times are changing. You, Vex, Mercer...you're part of a dying breed."

   She had stopped a little ways off, and nobody seemed to have noticed her; the Khajiit glanced down, then kicked an empty bottle near her foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

   The group of shadowy figures looked up. The only one she recognized was Brynjolf, now in dark leather armor: the others—three men, two women, all human—she didn't. She didn't ponder it too long, though, just pricking her ears forwards and giving a little twitch of her whiskers in silence. Brynjolf broke into a little grin that he hid quickly.

   "Dying breed, eh?" He glanced back at his companions, gesturing towards her. "What do you call that, then?"

   One of the men—the one behind the bar—just made a huffy, disbelieving little noise in his throat in response, but Brynjolf ignored him, approaching her.

   "Well, lass," he began as his greeting, "color me impressed. I'll be honest, I hadn't expected to see _you_ again." He made no attempt to hide the note of admiration in his voice. Mrrsizha tried not to preen, angling an ear towards a noise in the distance.

   "It wasn't all _that_ hard to get here," she answered, doing her best to sound cool and confident. It must have worked, since he broke into a smile.

   "Good to hear. Well, now that you've proven you can get here, how about proving you're willing to work with us?"

   Mrrsizha's ears turned towards him, her brows lifting. "Another errand?"

   He nodded. "A small one. Have to make sure you have our interests at heart, you understand."

   The Khajiit gave a short nod. "Alright. What do you need?"

   Brynjolf gestured to one of the Flagon's tables, the one closest to the entrance. Mrrsizha hesitated for a moment before taking a seat, with her back towards the entrance; she would rather that than have it towards the den of thieves on the other side. At least, until they accepted her. There was a little murmur of conversation in the background and she was aware that she was being watched, but she did her best to ignore it as Brynjolf sat down across from her, leaning across the table.

   "Here's the thing. I need you to deal with a couple deadbeats for me, if you can manage it."

   Mrrsizha wondered briefly if she should take offense at that implication. "What did they do?"

   "They owe us some money, and they've refused to pay up. It's not a dangerous errand. Just want to make sure you're with us."

   Mrrsizha considered for a moment, leaning back in her seat slightly as she thought. Intimidating people was not her forte—she wasn't exactly an imposing figure. Still, if this was what he wanted done... "Alright. Who are they, and how do you want me to handle it?"

   "Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga. You'll find them in the Bee and Barb, the Pawned Prawn, and the bunkhouse. If you have to, you can ask around; they'll be easy enough to find." Brynjolf sighed shortly, reaching up to rub his forehead and gesturing with his other hand. "Honestly, the debt is secondary, here. The real point is to make it clear that we're _not_ to be ignored, so you need to make an impression."

   He raised his eyes to hers, adding, "You can't kill anyone, though. Bad for business."

_Just as well, I'd rather not anyway._ Mrrsizha made a point to remember the names, repeating them in her head. "So how do you want me to make an impression, then?"

   "Well, you can't kill them, but there are other ways to get to them." Brynjolf tapped his fingers on the tabletop for a second, thoughtfully. "Haelga's a devout follower of Dibella. She has this gaudy statue of her around somewhere...you'll know it when you see it. And if you're clever, I'm sure you can make that work to your advantage." He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then continued, "As for Bersi, the key to getting at him is that ugly dwarven urn he has on display in his shop. If you can't persuade him, destroy it. That should get the message across." He pursed his lips, pausing for a moment, then finished, "Keerava...I'm not much help, I'm afraid. She's a stubborn lizard. Though, talk to Talen-Jei at the Bee and Barb. The two of them are...well acquainted, if you catch my meaning. He might be willing to listen to reason if she isn't."

   He sat back and appeared to be thinking for a moment before he said, "Well, I think that about covers it, lass. Anything else you need to know?"

   Mrrsizha considered for a moment. _Haelga: bunkhouse, Dibella. Bersi: Pawned Prawn, urn. Keerava: Bee and Barb, talk to Talen-Jei._ She tried to think of anything else she might need to know about them, then shrugged finally. "No, I think I'll be fine."

   "Good. Get out of here, then. I'll be here when you're done." Brynjolf stood, turning to walk off into the Flagon, and Mrrsizha got to her feet to head back the way she'd come. She passed by one of the other men on the way—a tall, muscular blond one who smelled vaguely like Maul—but he barely glanced at her as she passed.

   She found her way to the other side of the bridge she'd first encountered in the Ratway when she left the Flagon, and lowered it. After that, it took her only a few moments to get back out to Riften proper. She blew out a breath gratefully, inhaling a lungful of the fresh evening air. As much as she understood putting the Guild's headquarters in the sewer, she wished they'd chosen somewhere a little more pleasant.

_Oh well._ She made her way up to the roadside, turning her attention to the Bee and Barb: she had already marked it on her mental map, near the marketplace. The Khajiit made her way across town, habitually avoiding the guards.

   When she stepped into the tavern, she paused for a moment to scan the small crowd, wondering how easy it would be to find Talen-Jei. There were more Argonians in Riften than most cities, after all—it usually seemed to be that way, near water. _Damn._

   "Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

   Mrrsizha looked up at the greeting, blinking in surprise at the person who had spoken.

   "Fadali? You're still here?"

   The elf smiled briefly, leaning against the wall next to her. "Yeah. Figured I'd check out the important parts of town first, you know?" She cocked her head. "You've got a look. Here for something in particular?" She arched an eyebrow, and Mrrsizha smiled back for a moment. No doubt she really meant, "here to steal something?"; the Dunmer had caught on quickly.

   "Talen-Jei. I need to talk to him."

   "Oh, the blue Argonian?" She blinked a little in surprise. "He's upstairs, I think." When Mrrsizha raised her brows in surprise, Fadali shrugged. "I've been listening. Not for him, but I pick things up."

   Mrrsizha tipped her head to her slightly in thanks, and the elf gave a little wave when she turned to walk off. The Khajiit slipped through the thin crowd, making her way to the stairs.

   The upper floor of the inn was much emptier, with only a few people going to and from their rooms. Mrrsizha waited until they were gone, then started towards the blue-scaled Argonian sweeping the far side of the hall. "Talen-Jei?"

   He looked up at his name, the feathers at the back of his head raising slightly. "Yes?" He frowned at her for a second, clearly wondering what she could possibly want—or how she knew him. "Can I do something for you, Khajiit?"

   "You can do something for Keerava, rather," Mrrsizha answered, her voice lowering. Nobody was listening, probably, but she wasn't going to risk it. "Brynjolf sent me to tell you to talk some sense into her."

   "Bryn—" The Argonian went tense abruptly, hissing shortly through his teeth. His tail made a short sweep from side-to-side. "Dammit. I knew this would happen. With the rumors going around about how poorly your organization has been doing, she's getting much too bold."

   He shifted to lean on his broom slightly, his expression hardening into a glare. Mrrsizha did her best to match it, her ears lowering slightly. "I'm not that foolish, though. The last thing we want is a war with your...people." He sighed, his fangs flashing briefly in the light, and his feathers raised for a second before flattening back down. "Look, I'm only saying this because I care about her. So _don't_ mistake it for acceptance for what you do."

   He cast his eyes to the side briefly. "Keerava has some family at a farm, just inside Morrowind. If you mention you know about it, she might be willing to listen." He looked back at her, sharply. "But please, _don't_ hurt anyone. I couldn't bear the thought."

   Mrrsizha gave a slight nod. "If Keerava cooperates, we won't have to."

   He just growled, soft and reptilian and low in his throat. Mrrsizha turned to leave, flicking her tail tip at him once.

   Keerava was at the bar, arranging something behind it. She looked up when Mrrsizha approached, though, and straightened, absently wiping her hands on her apron.

   "Something I can get you?"

   Mrrsizha leaned on the counter, tapping her claws on it briefly. "You can get me Brynjolf's money, yes."

   Keerava blinked once in surprise, then snorted. "I'm not paying him a single septim, Khajiit." She jerked her head towards one of the doors. "Now get out of my inn."

   "You might want to reconsider, Keerava," Mrrsizha answered, leaning forward a little and allowing a little growl to creep into her voice. It sounded very impressive to her own ears. "Otherwise, we might have to make a trip down to Morrowind...less than a week to get there and back, wouldn't you say?"

   Keerava went still, her red eyes narrowing. "What are you..." Her voice had softened a little, gone wary.

   "You know what I'm talking about. Little farm, just inside the border..."

   "No!" Keerava hissed, her voice going low. "Please, don't! My family means too much, don't hurt them."

   Mrrsizha pulled back with a little satisfied flick of her whiskers. "Then give me Brynjolf's money and I'll forget about it. Deal?"

   The Argonian clenched her teeth, but nodded. She bent again, and Mrrsizha heard a lockbox open. A moment later, Keerava straightened, pushing a small coinpurse across the bar top.

   "Very well. Take this back to Brynjolf. Every coin I owe is in there, I swear it. Tell him he'll have no more trouble from me."

   Mrrsizha nodded, taking the small pouch of coins. "Thank you. Have a good night."

   She didn't listen for Keerava's response, heading out past Fadali. The elf glanced at her briefly as she passed, but didn't say anything.

   The bunkhouse was across the canal, very close to the Bee and Barb. Mrrsizha was briefly tempted to slip in somehow other than the front door, but she decided not to: there wasn’t a back door, and none of the windows looked like they would open. She could have probably gotten through one with enough time, but she didn’t think it was worth the trouble. Anyway, she wasn’t interested in causing property damage right now. The cleaner she could do this, the better.

   So she just tried the front door instead.

   It wasn’t locked, but Haelga was nowhere to be seen. Neither was anyone else, for that matter. The building was large enough, though, that the owner might just be elsewhere in it. In any case, the strongest scent there belonged to a Nord woman who smelled like flowers, and had been there very recently, so Mrrsizha couldn’t tell by scent alone if she was still there.

   She gave a little shrug, and decided to look around while she had the chance.

   Her ears flicking to catch any sound, she started towards the left side of the ground floor first. It was unremarkable—a dining area, it looked like—and didn’t hold any items of interest for her. Directly across from the front door was the counter, with a door behind it. Mrrsizha leaned over the top to glance behind it briefly, making note of a lockbox, a few loose septims, and an iron dagger. She took a deliberate breath through her nose, ignoring the urge to investigate further, and left the coins and dagger where they were.

   The other side of the room seemed to be mostly storage, along with a single smaller table by the stairs leading to the upper floor. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, and near it was her mark.

   A small shrine had been set up against the wall. Two bowls filled with wildflowers and a sprig of lavender surrounded a gleaming golden statue of a naked woman, holding a flower above her head and encircled by her own hair in glimmering silver. Sapphires studded the base of the statue and the center of the flower.

   The sight of it made Mrrsizha’s breath catch. The phrase “itchy palms” was often used to metaphorically describe the urge to steal something, but Mrrsizha was quite certain it was literal in this case: her palms almost prickled with the need to take the statue. It was horribly tacky and over-the-top, and she instantly _adored_ it.

_Well, Brynjolf **did** say to use it against her._ The Khajiit couldn’t help the little mew of excitement in her throat when she moved to pick the statue up.

   It was nearly the size of her torso, and _very_ heavy. She huffed out a little breath, hefting it off the shrine and letting the cold weight of the statue rest against her chest. _No wonder Haelga isn’t worried about displaying it so openly: who is going to cart this thing off easily?_

   She did her best to keep from purring as she made her way back to the counter, hefting the statue up onto it and then hopping up to join it a second later. Mrrsizha sat down on the counter, her tail swaying happily behind her as she pulled the statue over and ran her fingertips over the cold metal. Haelga would be back soon, no doubt, but until then, this was _hers._

   Only a few moments later, she heard movement beyond the door that had been near the shrine, and a second later, it opened. The Khajiit jerked her eyes up, clearing her throat a little and closing her fingers around the statue, trying her best to look like she hadn’t just been enthralled with the way the light glimmered on it.

   A tall blonde woman who smelled like flowers rounded the corner, and just as her eyes widened and she began, “ _Wha—_ “ Mrrsizha went stiff, scooting towards the edge of the counter.

   “Haelga?” She tipped her head slightly, tense to move.

   “What are you doing with that?! Put her back!” Haelga started towards her, but Mrrsizha slid off the counter, hauling the statue with her towards the door.

   “Ah, no. Hear me out. You don’t want me to drop this in the lake somewhere, do you?” Mrrsizha cut her eyes to the statue pointedly.

   “What?! No, not Lady Dibella!” Haelga’s hands clenched and she blew out a harsh breath between her teeth, but didn’t move towards her. “What do you want, Khajiit?”

_There. Good._ Mrrsizha tried not to sigh in relief—she wasn’t entirely certain she _could_ have escaped with the damned thing, heavy as it was—and relaxed, very slightly. She kept her hold tight on the statue, however. “Brynjolf sent me. You owe him some money, I believe.”

   “You can’t be serious,” Haelga answered, her voice tight. “I already told him, I’ll pay soon. Please, be reasonable.”

   “I _am_ being reasonable, Haelga.” Mrrsizha took a half-step back and Haelga’s breath caught. “We’re out of patience. Unless you want _her_ —“ She looked at the statue pointedly, “—decorating the bottom of the lake in a few minutes _.._.” She trailed off, leaving the threat open.

   Haelga took a shaking breath. She moved finally, but only towards the counter. Mrrsizha watched her carefully, wishing she’d snatched the dagger back there after all. She couldn’t very well fight while holding this thing.

   The human didn’t bend to reach under the counter, though, unlocking the door behind it instead and stepping through. She returned a second later with a coinpurse, setting it down on the counter.

   “Give me the statue,” she said, her voice firm, “and you can have your damn gold.”

   Mrrsizha approached her carefully, her ears folded. Haelga glared across the counter, her nostrils flaring and her jaw clenched, but didn’t say anything else or move. Mrrsizha set the statue down on top of the counter, letting out a little breath of relief. Reluctantly, she pushed it forward slightly.

   Haelga shoved the coinpurse at her, pulling the statue towards her as soon as Mrrsizha let it go. “ _There._ I hope you _choke_ on it, _cat_.”

   Mrrsizha didn’t answer, just giving her a slight nod and a grin that showed more teeth than was necessary as she took the coinpurse and headed for the door.

   She let out a little breath once she was outside, tossing the coin purse in the air once before tucking it away. The Pawned Prawn was the only place she didn’t already know the location of. She thought it might be easy to find, though: after all, shops needed signs. She headed towards the lake on the vague suspicion that it might be located near it, given the name.

   She had passed several buildings and it was starting to get dark once she finally saw the sign she was looking for. There was light shining through the windows, so she tried the door experimentally, and stepped inside once it opened.

   She barely had a chance to take stock of the room before her thoughts were interrupted.

   “Welcome to the Pawned Pr—oh _no_. You’re the one from Brynjolf’s outfit, aren’t you?”

   She blinked in surprise, her attention going to the Nord behind the counter. “I might be,” she answered, clasping her hands behind her as she walked over to him. _Apparently, word gets around._

   “I knew it.” He must have seen her turn to eye the dwarven urn he had on display in the window, because he added hastily, “Hold on, now, there’s no need to do anything drastic. I heard you’d be coming by, see?”

   “Did you?” Mrrsizha turned back to him, perking her ears. “So I take it you know who else I’ve spoken to tonight. I hope you won’t give me as much trouble as they did…”

   “Oh, no! I won’t give you any trouble at all!” Bersi reached into one of his pockets, producing a coinpurse. “In fact, I have the money I owe Brynjolf, see? Every septim, I promise.” He tossed it to her and Mrrsizha caught it deftly, weighing it for a moment before tucking it into her hip pouch with the others. She flashed him a smile.

   “Thank you, sir. Pleasure doing business.” She tipped her head to him slightly before turning to leave, and heard him audibly sigh in relief behind her before the door closed.

_Well. That could have been worse._ She ran over her mental checklist to make sure she’d done everything Brynjolf wanted before turning back towards the canal, and following it to the Ratway entrance.

* * *

 

   As he’d promised, Brynjolf was in the Flagon when she got back, on the deck talking to a severe-looking blonde woman. Mrrsizha skirted past the man at the entrance, eying him carefully, and tried to ignore the way she was being watched as she approached Brynjolf.

   He’d looked up expectantly once she got close, and Mrrsizha deposited the three coinpurses in a neat row on the table in front of him. “Done,” was all she said, ears perked. Brynjolf leaned back with a soft smile. The woman with him narrowed her eyes a little, watching Mrrsizha, but the Khajiit did her best to ignore her. No point starting fights with the people she was trying to get in good with.

   “So I’ve heard. Best of all, you did it clean, and you did it well. I like that, lass.”

   Mrrsizha couldn’t help but smile back, bouncing in place for a second before she caught herself. Brynjolf stood, collecting the money and stepping past her. “Alright, lass. You’ve done enough, I think. Time to show you what we’re all about.”

   Mrrsizha couldn’t keep the bounce out of her step as she followed him to the back of the Flagon. There was a tunnel back here that was darker. It led off in one direction, but Brynjolf turned towards the alcove in the side; there was little more than some miscellaneous cleaning supplies here and a single wardrobe that turned out to be empty when Brynjolf opened it. He pressed something in the side of the wardrobe and the back swung outwards suddenly, revealing a tunnel behind it. Mrrsizha blinked in surprise, following him through and looking over her shoulder. The wardrobe swung closed behind them after a few moments.

   This tunnel was better-lit, and she caught a glimpse of a room filled with beds as they passed it. _Probably where most of his coworkers sleep,_ she mused thoughtfully.

   They had been steadily going downwards for a few moments, now, and the stone was starting to get slick. Mrrsizha’s eyes were on her feet as she walked, careful to avoid any particularly slippery places so she didn’t go careening into Brynjolf’s back—she’d already made a good impression, as far as she could tell, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

   All of a sudden, the ceiling disappeared, and she looked up in surprise—and stopped short.

   The room they’d come to was much like the one the Flagon was housed in: large, circular, and filled with water. The water came from the four drains set high in the ceiling, pouring down to collect in the middle of the room. A stone walkway and wooden bridges circled the edge, with four arching stone bridges leading to a platform in the center. Banners hung from the ceiling, all the same: dark grey with lighter grey trim and a single design near the bottom, a tall diamond with a circle in its center. There were other people there—mostly men, it looked like—going about their business, either talking or heading somewhere. One—an elf, she thought, by how slender he was—was practicing his archery at the far side of the room.

   She scrambled after Brynjolf a second later, but he had slowed a little to let her take it in, and she saw a brief grin on his face as she looked around. “Welcome to the cistern, lass.”

   She didn’t answer, trying to take stock of everything. This must have been where most of the Guild made their home: much of the room was taken up with beds and chests, spaced out along the walls. There were three other exits than the one that led up to the Flagon: two she couldn’t make out much of, but the one directly across from the Flagon’s exit was blocked by a thick iron door.

   Near that door was a desk, and a set of shelves behind it. A grey-haired man was at the desk, bent over it, and Brynjolf turned to him once they’d gotten to the platform in the center, calling, “Mercer!”

   He looked up at his name, then straightened. As he approached, Mrrsizha stilled and jerked her attention forward, trying her best to look impressive. Her tail tip swished through the air behind her, the only indication of her anxiety. _Probably._

   Mercer wasn’t a Nord, but she wasn’t sure if he was an Imperial or a Breton: her ability to recognize human features began and ended at Nords and Redguards. Either way, he crossed his arms when he came to a stop, looking her over critically. Mrrsizha took a little breath.

   “This is the one you were talking about?”

   “Aye, she’s the one.”

   “Doesn’t look like much.” Mrrsizha felt her ears flatten and she pursed her lips, but said nothing. _You’ll see. I’ll prove you wrong._ Mercer looked up at Brynjolf with a huff. “This better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources, Brynjolf.”

   “It’s not, I promise.”

   Mercer just made a short sound in his throat before turning his attention back to Mrrsizha. She raised her chin, whiskers flicking.

   “Before we do anything else, Khajiit, I want to make something _very_ clear.” Mrrsizha’s ears folded back slightly at his tone, but she remained silent. “You play by the rules, and you walk away rich. You _break_ the rules, and you lose your share.” He tilted his head towards her slightly, his voice lowering as he added, “Depending on how badly you break them, you might lost more. You do _what_ we say _when_ we say. No arguments, no negotiations. Do I make myself clear?”

   She nodded shortly. “Perfectly clear.” _Jackass._

   “Good, then I think it’s time we put your expertise to the test.”

   That made Brynjolf shift nervously, and Mrrsizha glanced at him as he began, his voice low and uncertain, “Wait, you’re not talking about _Goldenglow_ , are you? Mercer, you can’t send her there! Even our little Vex couldn’t get in!” Mrrsizha glanced between them for a moment, a little thrill of nervousness rising in her chest. _What was Goldenglow? And why was Brynjolf worried about sending her there?_

   Mercer scoffed. “You _said_ this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work, Brynjolf. If she’s everything you claim, let her _prove_ it.” Brynjolf started to say something, but Mercer turned back to her before he could. “Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson.” He gestured to Brynjolf, who was watching the exchange with his arms crossed and a troubled frown. “Brynjolf will provide you with the details.”

   He started to step back, but Brynjolf cleared his throat. “Mercer. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

   “Hm? Oh.” Mercer turned back to her with a little sigh. “Well, since Brynjolf assures me you’ll be nothing but a benefit to us, Khajiit, then you’re in. Welcome to the Thieves’ Guild.”

   Brynjolf looked after him as he left, letting out a soft breath that was like a sigh once he’d gotten far enough away. He still looked troubled when he turned back to her, but smiled apologetically. “Sorry about him, lass. Don’t take it to heart, he’s just stressed. But you’re finally in. Welcome to the family.” He gave a little shrug, adding, “I suppose we should be formally introduced, now.”

_What? Oh._ She returned his smile. “Mrrsizha.”

   “Mrr…” He paused for a moment, then said again, “Mrrsizha?” She was impressed that he managed to get it more-or-less correct on the first try, and gave a little nod, grinning for a moment. “Right. Well, you already know who I am, no need to introduce myself.” He tipped his head towards the entrance they’d come through. “You will probably want to introduce yourself to the rest of the Guild, though, when you get a chance. Delvin Mallory and Vex are usually up in the Flagon. They know their way around the place, and can generally kick some extra jobs your way. And talk to Tonilia, too. She’ll set you up with your leathers.”

   Mrrsizha nodded. “Alright. So how do I make sure to get my cut?”

   Brynjolf gave a little shrug. “Simple. Do what you’re told, do it well, and keep your blade clean. We can’t turn a profit by killing. Do that, and you won’t have to worry.”

   She let out a breath. “Sounds simple enough.” She rocked back on her heels for a second, then added, “So…Goldenglow?”

   “Ah.” Brynjolf sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That. Wouldn’t be my choice to send you there, lass, understand that. But if that’s what Mercer wants…” He glanced back at Mercer, huffing out a quiet breath.

   “It’s a bee farm, situated out in the lake. They raise the wretched things for honey. It’s owned by some smart-mouthed elf named Aringoth. We need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate’s hives and clearing out the safe in the main house.”

   Mrrsizha frowned, folding her ears back. It didn’t sound too difficult. “So what’s the catch?”

   “The _catch_ ,” Brynjolf answered with a little sigh, “is that you can’t burn too many of the hives, and you definitely can’t cause any serious damage to the estate. The important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did. Do just enough to get our message across, but nothing more.”

   “Makes sense, I suppose. No point in making enemies we don’t need.”

   Brynjolf nodded slightly. “Aye. The last thing we want to do is cross our clients.”

   Mrrsizha paused for a moment, considering. “What about Aringoth? What do I do about him?”

   “Nothing, if you can help it,” he answered, “but if he tries to stop you, kill him. Maven wants him alive, but she’ll let it go if we have to get rid of him.”

   Mrrsizha’s ears perked suddenly and she looked up. “Maven? Maven Black-Briar? That’s our important client?”

   Brynjolf nodded. “Aye. She’s why we can’t cause too much damage to the estate. She gets most of the honey for the Black-Briar Meadery from there, and if we do too much damage, she’ll have to import it from somewhere else, which cuts into her profits.” He pursed his lips for a moment and cast his eyes upward, adding in a low voice, “Believe me, lass, you _don’t_ want to get between that woman and her profits.”

   “So I’ve gathered. Who is she, anyway? She’s important, I hear.”

   “That’s a word for it.” Brynjolf gestured to the room. “Maven has Riften in her pocket. She’s one of our most important clients, and she has the Dark Brotherhood backing her. Long story short, Maven gets what she wants around here. I’d steer clear of her if I were you. Do anything to piss her off, and you’d be lucky if you just ended up in prison for the rest of the era.”

   Mrrsizha whistled softly between her front teeth. _Oh._

   “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about her, at least not right now. Just do this job right and she won’t be a problem.”

   Mrrsizha let out a little breath, nodding. “Right. What else do I need to know about Goldenglow?”

   “Like I said, it’s situated out in the middle of the lake. You can’t miss it from the shore, don’t worry. You can’t just walk up to it either, though. Aringoth hired a whole pack of mercenaries to guard the place. Vex managed to get in, but she almost lost her skin getting back out. Talk to her about it, maybe. She might be to tell you something that will help.”

   Mrrsizha’s ears pricked. “Mercenaries? Not the city guards?”

   Brynjolf shook his head. “Exactly. They’re a vicious lot, from what I heard. Like I said, it’s not something I would send you in to, if I had a choice.” He sighed. “We have a lot riding on this, lass. Don’t muck it up and make me look foolish.”

   She huffed, her tail tip flicking, but chose to ignore the implication. He’d realize soon enough that she was too good for that. “What’s so important about it? Aside from Maven, anyway.”

   “Ha. Maven’s most of it.” Brynjolf gave a loose shrug. “Simple enough. Goldenglow sells to the Black-Briars, and we make sure it stays that way. The workers have a dispute, and we rough them up. Anyone else tries to buy from Aringoth, we steal the shipments. In return, Maven lets us do a little extortion on the side. Easy money.” He sighed, looking away. “At least, it was, until this. Like I said, we have a lot riding on it.”

   Mrrsizha nodded once. “Alright. I’ll get it done.”

   “Good.” Before she could leave, though, Brynjolf took hold of her shoulder. He was frowning. “Be careful, lass. Those mercenaries don’t take prisoners.”

   Mrrsizha just nodded again and he let her go. She took a breath, turning and starting back towards the Flagon, trying her best not to think about what that meant.


	3. Chapter 3

   Vex turned out to be the blonde woman Brynjolf had been talking to when Mrrsizha first returned, and she was still out on the deck when Mrrsizha went to talk to her, leaning against the railing and gazing across the water. She looked up when Mrrsizha got close.

   “So you’re the new meat, huh?” was her greeting, her voice clipped and her tone short. Before Mrrsizha could answer, she took a step towards her, leaning down to hiss, “Let me make two things perfectly clear to you, maulkin. One: I’m the best damn infiltrator this rathole of a Guild has, so if you think you’re going to replace me, you’re dead wrong. Two: you follow my lead and do what I say, no questions, no excuses. Got it?”

   “Got it.” Mrrsizha lowered her ears, swallowing a low growl. _What the hell is a “maulkin”?_ She kept the question to herself, though, and hoped it wasn’t an insult—though she suspected it was. Maybe she’d ask Brynjolf later.

   That seemed to be enough to satisfy Vex, since her expression softened a bit when she returned to leaning on the railing. “Then we understand each other. Good.” She sighed, and her the hard edge in her voice had faded some when she continued, “Now, it’s time to get your feet wet, and I don’t want to waste a lot of time talking anything but business, so let’s get that out of the way now. I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you: we're in a bad way down here. Believe it or not, we _used_ to have the best of everything...the Ratway was a damn palace.” She gestured to the room, sharp and irritated. “The only way this place will ever return to its glory days is if we can finish these extra jobs and start the gold flowing again.”

   Mrrsizha frowned at that, her tail flicking. “What happened?”

   Vex made an irritable little noise in her throat, shrugging. “Who knows?” She jerked her chin towards one of the men in the Flagon. “Old Delvin, there, thinks it’s a curse. I think he’s crazy. You want my opinion, it’s just plain bad luck. In any case, if you want to fix it, there’s one way to do it: get out there and start making a name for us again...make them start _fearing_ us like they did long ago. And, while you're at it, make a little bit of coin on the side. Not a bad deal, eh?”

   She huffed, looking down at Mrrsizha, her eyes narrowed and her gaze calculating. “So, maulkin. What do you want? You’d better not be here just to waste my time.”

   Mrrsizha snorted, raising her chin. Vex cocked an eyebrow, but Mrrsizha didn’t let her say anything. “Mercer sent me to Goldenglow,” she answered. “Brynjolf told me I should ask you about it.”

   “Goldenglow?” That made her straighten, her eyes going wide. “Why would he send _you_ there?”

   “Didn’t ask.” Mrrsizha crossed her arms. “Brynjolf said you had some trouble there.”

   Vex snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.” She sighed heavily. “That elf s’wit…he’s a lot smarter than I expected. Can you believe that fetcher had more than tripled the guard? There must be _eight_ of them in there. It was like he was _daring_ us to come and get him.” She let out a breath. “Well, you’ll be wanting a way in. There was an old sewer tunnel I used, dumps into the lake on the northwest side of the island. It should still be unguarded, and that’ll get you to the door. Other than that, though…just watch your damn back. The place is crawling with mercenaries.”

   Mrrsizha nodded. _More sewers. Of course._ “Thanks.”

   “Don’t mention it, maulkin. And try not to get yourself killed, if you can manage that.”

   Mrrsizha just snorted in response.

   She located and introduced herself to Tonilia next: she was a Redguard woman, and declared herself to be the local fence and Delvin’s lookout. She was slightly friendlier than Vex, but only barely. Once she had located a set of armor for Mrrsizha—muttering slightly about finding the right fit—the Khajiit sold her the gloves she’d taken off the man who had attacked her in the Ratway, and replaced one of her swords with a slightly better one from Tonilia’s stock that glowed dimly with a fire enchantment.

   She made a point to introduce herself to the others in the Flagon: Delvin was much more agreeable than the two women and seemed genuinely enthused about her being there, and Vekel was unimpressed without being outright rude. She avoided the blond who smelled like Maul, however; she assumed he must be Maul’s brother—there was a passing resemblance, but then, _most_ humans looked alike to her—and she wasn’t interested in another confrontation like she’d had with his brother. _Better to get a feel for that one first before trying to make friends, I think._

   There was one thing in the Flagon that caught her attention above everything else, though: the scent of another Khajiit. It was faint and faded, but its owner had been here in the past few days. She couldn’t help but be disappointed that he was not, apparently, in right now; she would have noticed him in the cistern, surely. She made a little note in her head to keep an eye out for him in the future as she headed towards the Flagon’s entrance.

   She had other business tonight besides socializing, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

   It was well into the night—usually when Mrrsizha would be preparing for a night of work, if she hadn’t been as busy as she had today—when she found an inn to stay at. Not the Bee and Barb—she doubted she would be welcomed there any time soon—but a smaller one in a slummier part of the city that called itself the Cat’s Rest; the name had been what caught her attention, and it amused her. It turned out to be named after the large grey cat that slept at the end of the counter and growled as soon as she got close.

   She was mildly disappointed by that, but she tried not to think about it too hard. If she was staying in Riften, she’d be better off getting more permanent lodging anyway, and she wouldn’t have to deal with the dishearteningly unfriendly cat.

   Only once she was in the privacy of her room did she finally unfold the leathers she’d gotten from Tonilia and examine them.

   They looked to be a bit large for her—though nothing she couldn’t alter, if it truly became a problem—and mostly made of soft, black-grey leather that had an odd, faintly oily smell to it. She assumed the smell came from some kind of waterproofing concoction that had been worked into the leather, but in any case, it wasn’t terribly disconcerting. Thicker, stiffer pads protected the shoulders and knees, but it wasn’t enough to be very useful in a true fight…not that it was meant to be, she suspected. It all tingled with magic, and the vest itself made her feel lighter just by holding it.

 _Would have liked to have this several years ago,_ she mused to herself, plucking experimentally at some of the stitching to see if it held. It did, and she gave a little satisfied nod. She wasn’t sure where she stood in Riften currently, but things were looking up: she had a job, after all, and that was more than she’d been able to say a week ago. She huffed out a little sigh.

   Right now, she just had to worry about Goldenglow, not getting killed there, impressing her boss, and—hopefully—getting along with the den of criminals she’d allied herself with. _And finding more permanent lodging,_ she added in her head, _if I end up staying here._

   The Khajiit groaned softly, folding her ears.

 

* * *

 

 

   She only changed into her leathers when she woke the next morning, before she left. They were loose, but not enough to be a nuisance. Most importantly, they were quiet, allowed as much movement as possible, and covered nearly every inch of her light fur: only her face, part of her hands, and tail were visible. There was a dark cloth hood stitched into the vest, but Mrrsizha didn’t bother with it. Hooded people were suspicious, and as a Khajiit, she was suspicious enough—anyway, wearing it would force her ears down and muffle her hearing, and she wasn’t keen to do that without good reason.

 _Alright. First things first._ She had an entire day ahead of her: after all, she didn’t want to try and break in to Goldenglow Estate in the middle of the day. Under normal circumstances, she would have used the day to examine the grounds and learn the schedules of the people there, but the location of the estate made that impractical, if not impossible; it was harder to look inconspicuous on a fortified island where everybody knew you didn’t belong. _Still,_ she thought, _maybe I can tell something from the shore._

   However, she doubted she would be able to find out enough to take up her whole day, and that would still leave her with several hours to kill before it would be dark enough to get to work.

   But then, she did have an entire city to get to know.

   When she left the Cat’s Rest, she headed back towards the marketplace. It was, after all, the center of Riften, and the best place to start. The merchants were already out, along with a few early-risers. The marketplace itself held little of interest for her right now, though: she’d seen a bit of it already, and her goal today was the rest of Riften.

   It was roughly divided into two sections—Plankside and Dryside, with the canal separating them—and she started on Dryside first. It was the oldest part of Riften, no doubt, and the largest buildings were there: the jarl’s palace was the crown jewel, of course, but aside from that there was the Temple of Mara and the beautiful manor homes of Riften’s elite.

   On the other hand, Plankside—the half of the city stretching out over the lake—was largely made up of businesses. In fact, very nearly every business _in_ Riften seemed to be situated there, with the exception of the fisheries and warehouses, which were out on the docks. It wasn’t as pretty as Dryside, but it was where the heart of the city really was: aside from the businesses, much of the population seemed to make their home there.

   The slummiest part of the city was down by the canal, largely consisting of ramshackle housing built into the canal’s walls. There were a few smaller businesses there, but only one that was of much note: Elgrim’s Elixers. Mrrsizha made note of it largely because she found it curious that it would be placed down here, but beyond that, she had little interest in alchemical shops.

   She spent a few hours wandering the main roads, snatching her breakfast on the way, before finally turning her attention to the alleyways. _Those_ were one of the most important parts of a town.

   Riften’s alleyways were a maze, home to rats, skeevers, feral dogs and cats, and more than a few people she went out of her way to avoid. She got lost more than a few times, but finding her way back was never too difficult: the lake provided a handy reference point for her, and she could always climb onto a roof top to get a better view. In fact, she did a few times: knowing a city from above was nearly as important as knowing it from below.

   She tried to memorize as much of it as she could, aware that she would likely have to disappear in the city at some point in her future. She was beginning to get a feeling for Riften.

   It must have been larger at some point, surely—the canal convinced her of that. It would have been good for trade, once, and trade brought people. It didn’t seem to be of much use currently, however, which—she gathered—seemed to be largely because of the war. The city wasn’t poor, but it lacked something. Riften wasn’t as lively or bustling as Whiterun, and had a sort of melancholic, run-down feeling to it despite its wealth, a current of bitter apathy underscoring life there.

   She wasn’t fond of it.

   The snippets of conversation she had gathered in her wandering seemed to agree with her feelings on the city: the name Black-Briar came up often, usually in the form of vague, hushed complaints. The Guild was also mentioned, though chiefly by people wondering why the guard didn’t bother to clean them out of the sewers. The general agreement seemed to be that it was simply too much trouble when they could instead let them die off on their own.

   That had made Mrrsizha try very hard not to growl. _We’ll see about that._

   There were other problems besides the obvious ones, however: the war, of course, was brought up often. Riften’s jarl apparently favored the Stormcloaks a great deal. Mrrsizha would have preferred the Imperials, but she supposed it didn’t matter too much: Riften wasn’t in the middle of the fighting, and it was hardly like she was going to end up discussing politics with the jarl.

   There were also rumors of a skooma problem Plankside, and other, lesser troubles. Most of that she gathered by listening to an old Nord beggar by the market who seemed somewhat less hostile to her than he was to most people. She suspected it was because she was a Khajiit, and not in much higher standing in society than he was.

   In any case, she left him a handful of coins for the information before going on her way. It was very nearly as good to have friends in low places as it was to have them in high ones, and she could replace the money easily enough.

   It all painted a picture of general discontent. Things could be worse in Riften, but they could have been much better, too. _That won’t do._ If she was planning to stay, then it would have to improve.

 _But first,_ she thought, _the Guild._ And “the Guild” meant “Goldenglow”.

   She left Riften by the south gate just before evening, and followed the lake shore until she could make out the estate. There wasn’t much she could see. The weather had begun to turn cloudy, and she could smell rain on the air: it made it difficult to make out much of the estate from where she was. It was large, of course, and probably situated on two islands, since there seemed to be a bridge arching between two spots of land rising out of the lake, but beyond that…she wasn’t sure of much.

   Except that she would have to swim. She sat down on the lake shore, growling to herself.

   She had never been a very strong swimmer, and she _hated_ it: the threat of dark, deep, suffocating water and whatever horrid things lived in it was the worst part. The fact that it left her fur matted and waterlogged and made her smell funny was just a nice little bonus.

 _But,_ she thought with a heavy sigh as she stared across the lake, _it’s not like I have a damned choice._

   Mrrsizha scowled, and growled at the estate. It made her feel very slightly better.

 

* * *

 

 

   She told herself that she only waited until well after dark to approach the estate because it was the smart thing to do, and not because it had taken her that long to talk herself into the lake.

   Mrrsizha _told_ herself that, but she wasn’t entirely sure she actually _believed_ herself.

   The Khajiit was currently knee-deep in water, her tail swishing through it irritably and a low growl rumbling in her chest. She glared down at the lake, her ears flat and her hands clenched, and slowly willed herself to take a step further into it.

   Somewhere in the back of her mind, a very rational-sounding voice snarled, _Come **on!** This is going to take **forever** at this rate!_ Mrrsizha tried her best to ignore it, because she knew it was right, and acknowledging that meant she had to stop wasting time.

   She sighed heavily.

   She wasn’t sure how much later it was when the first raindrop landed on top of her muzzle, but she hadn’t moved much more. Mrrsizha looked up at the sky, her ears lifting fractionally.

 _Rain. Wonderful._ Another drop landed above her eye, and a third on her cheek. It was soon coming down fast, and the Khajiit was rapidly getting soaked from above as well.

 _Okay, well, you’re already wet. Let’s just get this over with._ She took a deep breath, easing her way out into the lake. It was a little easier now, but not much; still, within a few minutes, the chilly water was up to her chest. She took a deep breath, wondered why she was doing this, and dove into the lake.

   The rain and darkness was more than enough to mask her approach, but she still tried to stay underwater for as much of the swim as she could. By the time she dragged herself ashore, she was soaked, cold, utterly miserable, and doing her best to ignore the hammering in her chest.

   She had come ashore on the northwest of the main island, where she thought she could see the estate itself through the rain. _The other island must be where the hives are._ Even with the rain coming down, it didn’t take her long to find the sewer entrance Vex had mentioned: her nose led her to it. The entrance was little more than a wooden grate sitting just above ground level, and it didn’t take much effort for her to pry it open and slip inside.

   She landed with a _thmp_ and crouched there for a moment, sniffing the air and blinking water out of her eyes. Aside from herself, the only living thing she could smell was skeever…probably multiple ones. Mrrsizha straightened, drawing her swords. The new one felt unfamiliar, warm and weighted a little differently from the sword it had replaced. _Should’ve practiced with it._ She sighed in annoyance at herself. _It might not matter, though…not against skeevers._

   The Khajiit tried not to worry about it too much as she advanced down the dark tunnel. It soon opened into a slightly larger room that housed the two skeevers she had smelled: these ones were larger than the one she’d met in the Ratway, and Mrrsizha doubted they would be scared off as easily. She didn’t waste time trying to find out, lunging out of the tunnel with a yowl to slash at the closest one.

   The skeever gave a hissing scream of rage and alarm, turning to snap at her and trying to backpedal away in the same movement. The bite missed, and Mrrsizha retaliated with a sharp kick that knocked it into the second skeever as it turned to see what was going on. The first flailed for a moment, bleeding from a gash in its side, but the second recovered quickly and leapt at her, fangs flashing. It sank its teeth into her arm, but let go once she slashed at it. It had been an awkward blow—her swords were too long for such close quarters—but the blade had been the enchanted one, and the skeever’s fur caught fire as soon as the sword nicked it.

   The flaming skeever shrieked, fleeing down the tunnel, and Mrrsizha turned to dispatch the first one as it scrambled to its paws, its hind legs dragging behind it. She had no more put it out of its misery than the tunnel ahead of her burst into flames.

   The Khajiit looked up with a shrill hiss, backing away until she hit a wall as the sudden light blinded her. The second skeever had stopped screaming, and the only thing she was aware of was the sound of fire crackling, the cold stone at her back, and the scents of blood and flame and burning fur and flesh. Her vision cleared after a moment as her eyes adjusted and she squinted towards the fire, breathing hard through her nose.

   The fire wasn’t advancing, at least; the fuel seemed to have been from an oil spill down the length of the tunnel ahead of her, lit by the skeever she’d ignited in its retreat. There was little else in the sewers that would burn which hadn’t already been caught in the sudden blaze.

   Mrrsizha sighed, picking the cleanest spot on the floor to sit down. She couldn’t go any further when the fire going; she just hoped it burned itself out soon. She turned her attention to the dead skeever sharing the room with her, poking it gently before she set to cleaning her swords.

   The fire didn’t last very long—the oil spill must not have been as big as it initially seemed—but by the time Mrrsizha got up to move on, the sewer was stiflingly hot. _At least,_ she thought with a sigh, _it dried me off a little._

   A third skeever had been caught in the fire, and Mrrsizha stepped past the smoking bodies carefully, wrinkling her nose and trying her best not to smell them. At the end of the tunnel was another room, this one larger than the first and circular. It was empty of other life, but there was a wooden cart off to one side. When Mrrsizha stepped around the pillar in the center of the room and glanced towards it, she saw a pile of yellowing bones beside the cart.

   The pile was mostly made up of arching ribs, vertebrae in all sizes, and long, slender bones that she supposed had been limbs once, but she counted a few deer skulls, a skeever or two, and one skull that was probably a wolf or a dog in the midst of it all. Not all of the skulls belonged to animals, however. The Khajiit folded her ears back, staring down at the empty eye sockets of a one that was very much human…or elven, perhaps. Whatever it was, it had been a person once. She cast her eyes around nervously, her ears flattening further. The room was quiet and empty, and gave no indication of where the skeletons had come from.

   She let out a shaky little breath and backed away slowly before turning to leave the room. She didn’t notice the tripwire until her foot caught in it and it snapped.

   The Khajiit ducked out of the way with a short hiss-gasp of alarm, barely dodging the heavy ball of spikes that swung down from the ceiling. She let out a harsh breath, backing away a few steps. _Focus, Mrrsizha, or they’ll have a Khajiit skull to throw in with the rest._

   The tunnel beyond didn’t go much further before coming to a stop. She cast her eyes around the dead end for a moment, until they landed on a wooden ladder leaning against the wall. It led to a second grate like the one she’d come through, dripping rainwater onto the sewer floor. Mrrsizha paused only long enough to sheathe her swords before following it up.

   It was still raining heavily outside, and the cold water was an unwelcome shock after the stifling heat of the sewer tunnel. _So much for being dry._ Mrrsizha sighed softly before turning her attention to the estate she’d come up next to.

   It looked like the side of the house, though she couldn’t be sure. Most importantly, though, was that there were no guards—and a door not ten feet away. The Khajiit looked around briefly out of habit before heading for the door in a crouch.

   It was locked, and the lock looked intricate and new, even in the darkness and rain. Mrrsizha couldn’t help but grin despite the water trickling through her fur as she pulled out her pick set. _Good. Here I thought this would be too easy._

   The lock was complex, no doubt: even in the darkness, the metal gleamed, new and freshly-made. It was large enough that it must contain at least three tumblers, probably four. Luck was with Mrrsizha that night, however: she had barely started singing in her head before she located the tumblers—four after all, set in a line—and coaxed them into place, each one breaking neatly on her first try. Her fangs flashed in a wide grin, and for an instant she forgot everything else: the rain and the threat of death if she was caught and how worried Brynjolf had been about sending her here. She was in her element. What could possibly touch her now?

   But then the moment was over, and she let out a little breath. _He was worried for a reason,_ she reminded herself firmly, _and those reasons are willing to turn you into a rug if you slip up._ The Khajiit pocketed her picks and slipped inside.

   The door opened into an empty wooden hall. She could smell someone—male, Nord—off to the left somewhere, but nobody was visible. She paused for a moment to take in what she could, her ears pricking. The house was large, and the owner would have his bedroom upstairs. Most likely, his more important belongings would be up there as well. It would be a good place to keep a safe.

 _Anyway, who knows what else might be around. All the best things are in bedrooms._ Mrrsizha paused to wring out her hair and tail; it wouldn’t do to be dripping all over the place. It wasn’t perfect—water was still running off her leathers and there was enough still in her fur that a few drips would be inevitable—but it should be enough to avoid attracting too much attention or leaving a trail.

   She made her way down the hall as quickly and quietly as she could, slipping down the hallway to the right for a moment. There wasn’t much of interest there—only a shelf with some loose coins that she pocketed—and she soon returned to the main hall, following it towards the mercenary she’d smelled.

   He was at the end of the hall when it turned, sitting at a table in the corner with his back to her. Mrrsizha resisted the urge to let out a little breath of annoyance, glancing around. She couldn’t very well go past him: he would be able to see her perfectly.

   There was an open doorway to the left, though. Where it led she wasn’t sure, but it might provide a path around the man.

   Her decision made, the Khajiit took a breath and darted out of hiding, towards the door. She flattened herself to the wall, heart pounding—he, or anyone else, could walk past and see her at any moment—and leaned over to look into the room briefly. It looked like a large dining room, and most importantly, it was empty. Mrrsizha slipped in, wishing she could close the door behind her, but she wasn’t going to risk the noise it would cause. Humans had terrible hearing, but they weren’t _deaf._

   She hurried through the room, resisting the urge to growl. Under normal circumstances—with nobody around—she would have happily lingered to find anything valuable. She was achingly aware that silverware would probably be stored nearby, and she tried her best to forget it. _Other times, other treasures. It’s not worth it now, with him so close by._

   She paused in the doorway on the other side, glancing out. To her left was a stairway that led up, and to the right was an iron gate instead of a wooden door that made her brows lift in surprise. _What could he be protecting behind that?_

   She glanced back at the stairs. _A safe, perhaps?_ She let out a very quiet little breath, her tail flicking behind her as she thought. She was used to valuables being upstairs—people liked to keep them close. She didn’t know where the gate led, but it was probably not “close”. But then, why else would there be a metal gate in place of a regular door, except that something worth protecting might be behind it?

   She folded her ears back and shook her head. _Upstairs first. I can come back down._

   Her decision made, she headed for the stairs. One of them squeaked in protest and she froze, looking back over her shoulder, but nobody came to investigate. Mrrsizha took a shaking breath and hurried up the rest of the way.

   She paused for a moment on the second floor, swallowing. The room she’d come to was empty, though it smelled like people had been there recently. She absentmindedly swiped a coin pouch and a few loose septims from a tabletop—there were three tables in the room, though nothing of interest on the other two—and continued on her way.

   Down the hallway, she could smell at least two other human men. One was leaning against the wall with his back to her, barely visible—the other she couldn’t see. Her eyes flicked to the door at her left. _Not much choice._

   Swearing in her head, Mrrsizha crept over the door, reaching up to try the handle and watching the man, less than twenty feet away. The door wasn’t locked, at least. She eased it open as quietly as she could, the scrape of wood-on-wood—so soft she knew, _knew_ , that surely only _she_ could hear it, but impossibly _loud_ all the same—ringing in her ears. The muscle in one of her thighs chose that moment to cramp.

   Mrrsizha sank a fang into her tongue, resisting the urge to growl, and finally got the door open. Her heart pounding in her chest, she slipped through the doors with a swallowed mew of relief as the cramp in her leg eased up slightly. She pushed the door closed behind her— _quietly, quietly_ —and was about to let out a little sigh of relief when it clicked shut, so loud she was _sure_ someone must have heard.

   Sure enough, a second later she heard, “Did you hear something?” A second voice, a little further away, answered, “No, did you?” She froze with her back to the door, afraid to even breathe, staring wide-eyed at the room.

   There was movement behind her, jarring in how loud it was, how it seemed to shake the floorboards under her. She had gotten so used to her own silence, and she barely disturbed the dust as she passed; the man on the other side of the door wasn’t making an effort to remain undetected.

   Mrrsizha’s lungs burned.

   Finally, she heard a rough little huff on the other side of the door. “Guess it was nothing. Probably just the house creaking.” The heavy footsteps went back down the hall, away from her, and she finally let out her breath, as quietly as she could.

   She finally took a chance to look at the room, but it wasn’t terribly interesting: two beds were across from her, and some storage to her right. She didn’t find anything of note actually stored there, however. Beyond that was a second door, though this one was open. Mrrsizha headed for it quietly, ducking out of sight right before a man in worn leather armor passed in front of it.

   She glanced after him only long enough to be sure he wasn’t looking her way before darting into the hall, heading the direction he’d come from. It turned into a different hall, and that led to a large room with a mercenary.

   He wasn’t aware of her, even when she scrambled back a little and choked down a little noise of surprise and alarm. The room was long, and he was sitting at the table in the middle of it, against the wall. After a moment, she heard the soft sound of a page turning, and when she dared to glance out she saw a blue book open on the table in front of him.

   She took a little breath through her nose, closing her eyes briefly. She’d caught a glimpse of a large door at the other side of the room, and she had a feeling she knew where it led. She had yet to find the master bedroom, after all, and there couldn’t possibly be much else to this floor.

   The Khajiit swallowed, then crept out into the room before she could lose her nerve.

   She went very slowly, her ears turned towards the mercenary and her eyes flicking between him and her feet. It felt like eternity before she made her way to the door, and she was readying a little sigh of relief when she tried the handle and found it locked.

 _By the Twin Moons,_ she snarled in her head. She looked back at the mercenary quickly, but he hadn’t heard anything. Inanely, she thought he looked too young and gentle to be a serious threat, and she stifled the thought immediately as she fumbled for her picks. _Take nothing for granted, he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t willing to kill._

   The lock only had one tumbler, and under normal circumstances, Mrrsizha would have found it almost insulting. As it was, she was simply happy it was an easy one. She stored her picks away again and eased the door open before slipping inside. This time, thankfully, the door closed silently behind her.

   The room was huge, far larger than most other rooms she’d been in. A large bed took up its fair share of the room, draped in embroidered green fabric that Mrrsizha couldn’t name, though it looked expensive. There were shelves and tables and nightstands and deer pelts hanging from the walls, and it was all rather flashy. Goldenglow Estate must have made its owner quite a bit of money.

   The room smelled like him: the airy near-human smell of an elf, sweet and woodsy. It was very strong, and she followed it towards the back of the room to find him crouched behind one of the shelves, out of the view of the door.

   Before she could say anything, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock. “What—? How did you—? _Damn_ it all. Worthless mercenaries.” He kept his voice low, though it was tight with tension and anger. His eyes cut to the door briefly as Mrrsizha straightened, then back to her. “I didn't think Maven or Mercer would allow me to get away with this, but I had little choice.”

   Mrrsizha frowned, her ears turning towards him. She let a hand rest on the hilt of one of her swords, loosening it in its scabbard. The wood elf sucked in a little breath through his nose, straightening and back away from her, but Mrrsizha didn’t draw it.

   “We can make this easy—“ She hesitated for a moment, trying to remember his name. Elf names were only slightly easier than human ones. “—Aringoth. Just give me the safe key, and I’ll go.”

   Aringoth shook his head, short and sharp. “I can’t. I may as well cut my _own_ throat if I do that. It would be easier.”

   Mrrsizha growled quietly, sliding her sword free a few inches. Aringoth’s eyes snapped to it, but narrowed. “You won’t kill me, Khajiit. It’s not your way. I know how the Guild works.”

   “Maybe not.” _If only because of the damned mercenaries all over the place._ She took a step back. “Fine. I’ll open the safe myself.”

   Aringoth let out a harsh breath, then hissed, “No! I can’t let you ruin everything I've worked so hard for!” Before Mrrsizha could answer, he drew a dagger from under his coat, lunging for her.

   Mrrsizha bit back a yowl of surprise, darting away—he wasn’t a trained fighter, and the attack had been a clumsy one. Before he could call for his guards, she drew her blade and whirled on him. The elf didn’t have a chance to react before she slammed the hilt of her sword into his temple. The elf collapsed against her and she hissed shortly, catching him with her free arm and dropping to one knee.

   She heaved the elf off her, sheathing her sword and patting him down quickly. He wouldn’t stay unconscious for long. She find a set of keys that she tucked into the pouch with her picks, and retrieved his dagger—it was a nice one, orcish, and it would be a pity to leave it there. The Khajiit looked up, looking for anything else to take.

   Her eyes landed on a golden statue on one of the nightstands, of a giant bee. It glimmered in the light. It wasn’t as heavy as she’d expected when she picked it up—only plated in gold, likely—and too beautiful to leave behind.

   There was little else of interest in the room, though, at least out where she could see it, and she didn’t have time to do a thorough investigation. With one last glance at Aringoth, Mrrsizha made her way to the door, slipping out as quietly as she’d entered.

   The mercenary was still there, and apparently hadn’t heard anything. Mrrsizha left him undisturbed, heading out of the room.

   It only took her a few minutes to reach the stairs again, but her heart pounded the whole way: she was certain Aringoth would come to soon, and he would certainly send his guards to find her. She had to find the safe, and quickly.

   Her eyes landed on the gate across from the stairs once she was down them. _And what could that be protecting, but a safe?_

   She pulled Aringoth’s keys out of her pouch as she crept over to the door, casting her eyes down the hallway beside it. The mercenary who had been there before was gone. She swallowed, trying one of the keys in the lock. It worked—but then, there were only two, so her chances had been good—and she hurried through the gate, closing it behind her.

   There was another set of stairs here, leading down into the cellar. The room it led to was large and filled with old furniture, stacked together or leaning on the walls. There was another mercenary on the far side of the room, behind a table and a few chairs, but Mrrsizha ignored him, heading for the door across from her instead.

   She followed the stone hallway for a few moments before stopping suddenly. There was only one mercenary there—an older, muscular Nord man, leaning against the wall. However, he was directly facing the doorway that led deeper into the cellar, and Mrrsizha couldn’t have possibly slipped past him without being seen.

   She took a breath, her mind racing. There was nothing nearby or on her person to throw and get his attention, and she didn’t trust that method anyway. She preferred not to have guards alerted at all, whether or not it was by her. In her head, she sighed. _Nothing for it, then._

   Mrrsizha had never bothered to learn magic—she had no interest in it, and doubted she had any skill for it besides. She did, however, know one spell. After all, she had been born under the sign of the Shadow.

   She closed her eyes with a little breath, letting it out slowly when she felt the magical tingle suffuse her being, making her fur stand up for a second. When she opened her eyes again, she raised a hand in front of them, and saw nothing. A quick look made it clear that nothing else of her was visible either. _Perfect._

   The invisibility spell didn’t last long—only a minute—but it would be plenty of time for what she needed. She slipped past the mercenary quietly, doing her best to ignore the dim warnings in her head that he could _see her—_ he wouldn’t be able to see her for a few more seconds, at least.

   There was another set of stairs just beyond him, and not much further than that was the safe she’d been looking for, tucked into the corner of a small room. There was a chest on one side of it, and a table on the other with two coinpurses. Mrrsizha pocketed the coinpurses just as she faded back into visibility, and turned her attention to the safe.

   It was a small thing made of dark iron, very sturdy and no doubt very hard to pick. Mrrsizha reached into the pouch with her picks and Aringoth’s keys, and hesitated.

   She looked at the lock for a moment in silence. No doubt the other key she’d taken from Aringoth was for the safe.

   After a moment of thought, her fingers flitted to her pick set instead, and she pulled them out.

   The Khajiit knelt in front of the safe, laying her picks out neatly before her and selecting one. She slipped it and her shiv into the lock, and began to sing softly in her head.

   The first pick snapped shortly after she’d found the first tumbler. The second lasted until she’d found all the tumblers, set in a circle throughout the lock, but broke not long after that. She paused between verses, letting out a little breath. _No lock had ever bested her, and none ever would._

   She was on the end of the second verse when her next pick broke. She extracted it carefully, took a deep breath through her nose, and let it out. The next pick clicked gently when she inserted it.

   The first two tumblers broke easily enough, but the third required some coaxing. It took her a moment to find the fourth tumbler, and by the time it broke she could feel the pick beginning to give a little in her fingers. A little growl began in her throat as she gently searched for the last tumbler, holding the lock almost open with her shiv. _Don’t you dare._

   She had no more forced the last tumbler into place than her pick broke, but by then she had already twisted the lock open. She let out a little breath of relief, packing her picks back up—she only had seven left, she noted with annoyance—and tucking them back into their pouch before she opened the safe.

   There was a large pouch of septims in it—she pocketed that—and beside that, a neatly-folded note. Her ears pricking, she picked up the paper and unfolded it, wondering what could possibly be so important as to go in the safe.

 

_Aringoth,_

_This document acknowledges the sale of Goldenglow Estate and all property, assets and materials contained within. Payment of the property has been made in full by Gulum-Ei as an agent on behalf of the buyer. All dealings with the Thieves Guild in Riften is to cease immediately. To deter any possible retribution for this act, you are to take immediate steps to protect our assets in any way you see fit. I think you'll find that the Thieves Guild is far more bark than bite and will likely avoid Goldenglow Estate rather than thin their already dwindling numbers._

_Good luck and may this be the start of a long and lucrative partnership._

 

   Mrrsizha frowned as she read, her tail tip swishing in the dust behind her. There was a small symbol at the top of the page that she didn’t recognize, though it looked like a stylized dagger to her. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then folded the note and tucked it into the pouch at her hip—it was meant to be her primary one, she assumed, and sealed better than the rest of her pouches. Brynjolf would want to see the note, so she hoped it would be enough to keep water out.

   The chest beside the safe was much simpler to pick—only one tumbler, and it barely even resisted—and didn’t have anything in it except for a coinpurse.

   That done, Mrrsizha looked up, letting out a little breath. She hadn’t thought of how to get back _out_ of the cellar. She could only use her birth sign ability once a day, and she would be in full view of the mercenary upstairs should she decide to go that way again. There was another gate across from her, and the Khajiit turned towards it with a little sigh, hoping it led out.

   It wasn’t locked, and a moment later, she realized why: it only led to a small alcove that smelled faintly of sewer. At the end of the alcove was a trap door, and when she opened it, the sewer-smell hit her full-force. _Ah. No reason to lock this up, then._

   The Khajiit didn’t bother to glance back before dropping through.

   The trap door led to a twisting tunnel with a drop, and that left her back in the sewers across from where she’d first come up by the back door to the estate. She let out a little breath of relief, heading back the way she’d initially come. In only a few minutes, she was back out on the island’s northwest shore, and it was still raining. The rain had lightened a little, at least, but she wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. Less rain meant more visibility.

 _At least it’s still dark._ Mrrsizha sighed as rainwater dripped through her fur, soaking it through for the third time that night. She glared quietly at the lake, tail swishing. _Well. Fourth time, then._

   She slipped into the water, her ears flattening back, and made for the smaller island. It turned out there were actually two, but one seemed to be taken up entirely by a structure she took to be a sort of watchtower for Aringoth’s new guards. She dragged herself to the shore of the other island, on the back side; it was all rocks back here, but even in the rain, they weren’t difficult for her to climb. She’d scaled walls before, so jutting rocks provided no end of hand or footholds. She was confronted by a short wooden wall once she got to the top. The Khajiit hauled herself over it, dropping into a crouch on the other side.

   She’d landed behind a row of domed beehives, and other rows stretched on behind them. Mrrsizha let out a little breath, briefly thankful it was raining and the middle of the night—she wouldn’t have wanted to deal with the hives’ inhabitants as well as the guards. She crept through the hives, wondering how exactly she was supposed to burn them, and if they would even light in this weather.

   There was a small guard tower to the left of the hives, and it was lit by a single torch. Mrrsizha’s ears pricked. _There._

   The tower was empty, so slipping into it was no problem, but then she hesitated. The torch was visible—very visible, in the dark—and if anyone was looking, they would see it move. They might even be able to make out who had taken it. _Dammit._

   The Khajiit growled briefly, then stood, taking the torch from its socket and heading back towards the hives, doing her best to shield the light with her body and keep the rain from putting it out.

   Her heart pounded in her ears as she hurried through the hives, towards the back. That was closest to the lake, and the easiest escape route. She knelt by one of them, holding the torch out under the hive. After a few seconds that felt like eternity, it caught, and she backed away quickly.

   The first hive had started to burn in earnest despite the rain once she’d lit two others, and she straightened with a little breath of relief. _Job done._ She kept the torch—she didn’t want to drop it here and risk igniting any other hives—as she headed back towards the lake.

   She stopped short when an arrow slammed into the wooden wall in front of her face.

   Mrrsizha made a strangled little mew of surprise, scrambling up the wall one-handed as several other arrows followed the first. _Dammit, the light, of **course!**_ She should have _known_ the light from the burning hives would make her easy to see!

   She dropped the torch in the lake a second before she dove in, swearing in her head as the cold water flooded into her clothing and fur. She surfaced for a moment to catch her breath, then dove back under and swam for the shore as hard as she could.

   Once she had dragged herself ashore again, she was panting and cold and miserable, her heart pounding against her ribs. She stopped to look back at the estate, and the sight made her ears lift.

   The three hives weren’t visible from where she was, but the light from the fire lit up their island, and a column of smoke had begun to rise through the rain. She couldn’t help but grin, falling back against the shore for a second and breathing hard.

_Beautiful._

 

* * *

 

 

   She made her way to Riften’s north gate, unwilling to enter by the same one she’d left earlier that day. The rain was lightening up considerably by the time she reached it, and with the clouds gone, the sky was much brighter; she guessed it might be early morning now, and the very thought made her yawn softly.

   Mrrsizha caught murmurs of conversation as she made her way towards the Ratway, and caught the word “Goldenglow” more than once. She tried not to smile too widely as she headed down to the canal and the entrance of the sewers.

   Brynjolf was waiting for her when she returned to the Flagon, leaning against the wall by the tunnel that led into the cistern, and he was beaming.

   "Word is on the street that Goldenglow's been hit," he greeted her once she got close. He clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Good job, lass."

   Mrrsizha resisted the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet, briefly forgetting that she was still wet and cold and generally annoyed at the world. She settled for perking her ears instead, returning his smile as she reached into the large pouch at her hip. She withdrew the folded note and the large coin pouch from the safe. She tossed the pouch to Brynjolf, and held out the note to him. "That’s everything that was in the safe."

   Brynjolf took the note and unfolded it, and was silent for a moment while he read. He had a puzzled little frown once he finished, his eyes lingering at the top of the page for a second—on the odd little dagger symbol, she was sure.

   "Aringoth _sold_ Goldenglow?" He shook his head slightly. "That elf must have lost his mind. Maven doesn't like being cut out of a deal. I'm sure he'll find that out soon, though." His frown deepened a little and he let out a soft breath. "If only the buyer had signed with something besides this odd symbol..." He looked up at her. "I don't suppose you know what it is?"

   Mrrsizha's ears folded for a second, and she tried not to growl. Her voice was a little huffy when she answered. "No. I've never seen it before."

   "Blast." He didn't sound like he'd really expected her to know, but that didn't lessen Mrrsizha's disappointment in herself. Brynjolf folded the paper up, tucking it and the coin pouch into his pocket. "Well, I'll check my contacts and see what we can dig up. We'll figure it out."

   He turned to head deeper into the Guild, gesturing at her to follow. Mrrsizha hurried after him as he continued, "For now, we'll just keep things business as usual until we find something out. Before I send you off to Delvin and Vex, though, I wanted to check something."

   Mrrsizha stopped, tilting her head and crossing her arms. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

   Brynjolf paused for a moment to look back at her, then blinked in realization. "Oh, of course. Your pay." He reached into one of his pouches, pulling out a coinpurse and tossing it to her. "That should about cover it." The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "You're smart as a whip, lass."

   Mrrsizha just smiled back before giving a little nod. "Alright. Now, what do you need?" She tried to ignore the little nervous lurch in her chest as they stepped into the cistern.

   "Oh, nothing you should worry about," he answered. Brynjolf led her around the cistern, towards the tunnel on the left side. "I just want to check your skills before sending you on any other jobs. Easier to make good use of you when we know your strengths, and that way we can improve your weaknesses. It's trouble for all of us if one of us gets caught." He gave a loose little shrug, adding, "I would have done it sooner, but with Mercer insisting you go to Goldenglow...well, I'm just happy that ended well."

   Mrrsizha just nodded even though he wasn't looking at her. The nervous feeling had moved from her chest to her stomach, leaving her feeling a little queasy. She tried to ignore it. _You're good at what you do. There's no reason to be nervous._

_Except that you're being judged by a **professional** who had probably been doing this much longer than you._

   She suppressed a little sigh.

   Brynjolf led her to what must have been a training room: it was a small, well-lit room at the end of the tunnel. Sparring dummies had been set up along one wall, and several archery targets were placed in recesses set high in the walls. A collection of chests of various sizes were tucked into a corner, out of the way.

   She took it all in at a glance, her eyes lingering briefly on the chests. Brynjolf had turned to look at her, and when she cut her eyes back to him, he had glanced towards them himself; he must have seen her looking. He raised an eyebrow slightly, but gave no other indication of his thoughts.

   "Alright, lass. I just want to borrow you for a bit before we put you to work proper. Need to get a feel for what kind of thief you are, is all. We'll start with something simple." He went to stand by the chests, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows before he gave a slight nod to them. "See how many of those you can pick."

   Mrrsizha felt a little rush of relief at that and couldn't stop herself from letting out a breath. _Good. That I can do._ She went to kneel by the first chest, pausing to pop her fingers before pulling her picks out.

   She couldn't help but _feel_ Brynjolf watching, though, and it made her shift self-consciously, unsure how to begin. She took a little breath, trying to steel her nerves. _This is no different from when Ma’jhad first taught you, Mrrsizha, except that this time you know what you're doing._

   She let the breath out, placed her pick in the lock, and began singing in her head.

   The first lock was easy enough to be an insult. _Surely,_ she thought, _even a kitten could pick that._ The chest was empty, but she left it open as proof that it was picked. Brynjolf said nothing, just watching in silence.

   The second and third chests took her a moment, but not much longer; the fourth made her pause for almost a minute before the tumblers finally broke. The last chest, though, was the worst: the space was very narrow, barely allowing room for her to maneuver, and it was stubborn. It barely turned at all, snapping two of her picks before she even found the first tumbler.

   She had forgotten Brynjolf entirely now, her ears pricked and her eyes gleaming as she replaced her pick and started again. It was _not_ going to best her.

   She dragged her pick down the length of the lock slowly as she sang, feeling for the minute irregularities in the metal that would give away the tumblers' positions and building a mental image in her head. Once she thought she'd located them all, she slid her pick back to the first one, pushing on it gently until she heard and felt it click into place.

   The second one didn't break as cleanly, requiring some wiggling before she finally felt it give. The third she almost couldn't find, and she was about to start over before her pick snagged on it. The fourth was easier.

   If she hadn't been singing, she would have been holding her breath as she searched for the fifth tumbler, holding the lock mostly-open with her shiv. The slightest slip would be enough to reset it, now, and she'd have to start over again.

   She found it after a few seconds, pushing it into place, and the lock clicked as it opened. Triumphant, Mrrsizha pushed the chest open, beaming at it for a moment.

   Brynjolf gave a low whistle of admiration, and she finally remembered he was there. She turned to look back as he uncrossed his arms.

   "Not bad. I've only ever seen Vex get them all that fast before. You must be a natural, lass." He glanced at her, cocking an eyebrow. "You sing?"

   For a moment, she wasn't sure what he meant, until she realized she must have started singing aloud at some point. Her ears warmed. "That was how I was taught," she answered, trying not to sound defensive. "The rhythm helps me concentrate."

   "Ah. Well, I hope you can do it quietly, too."

   Mrrsizha gave a little nod. "Usually I do. But..." She shrugged lightly, gesturing to the training room. "It's not like anyone is going to come running to arrest me in here."

   Brynjolf chuckled softly. "True enough." Mrrsizha got to her feet as he turned, starting across the room. Mrrsizha followed him, the uneasy feeling returning.

   “So, tell me something, lass.” Brynjolf turned towards her, hands on his hips. He nodded to one of her swords. “How good are you with those?”

   “Good enough that I’m still alive,” Mrrsizha answered. She could hear the uneasiness in her own voice. She cleared her throat. “I prefer to avoid confrontations.”

   He nodded. “As you should. Still, the possibility is there.” He paced around the room slowly, but Mrrsizha stayed where she was, turning to watch him. “If I were to attack you, for example…”

   “I’d hope you can’t run or climb as well as me,” she retorted shortly before he could finish. Getting in a fight with him was the _last_ thing she wanted to imagine doing. Brynjolf flashed her a little grin.

   “Let’s pretend you can’t run, then.” He reached back and she heard a soft _snkt_ as he drew a pair of elven daggers from his back.

   Mrrsizha drew her swords quickly, skipping back a step and going tense. He didn’t attack her immediately, though, still circling her, and Mrrsizha backed away, her tail swishing uneasily. _This is going to be horrible._

   Brynjolf didn’t look up or give any warning before darting towards her. Mrrsizha hissed shortly in surprise, trying to skip out of the way, but he was faster than he looked and she didn’t escape without him slamming the flat of one of his daggers against her side, hard enough that she was sure it would bruise. _Thank the Moons he used the flat._

   He let her retreat after that, though, and didn’t attack her again, just watching her quietly. After a moment, Mrrsizha realized he was giving her an opening, one dagger held a little too high and his stomach unprotected. She didn’t trust it for a second.

   All the same, she made a feint towards the opening he’d left, expecting him to dodge. Instead, he blocked her sword with his dagger, slamming the hilt of his second dagger into the center of her back, between her shoulder blades. Mrrsizha coughed hoarsely, going to her knees with the force of the blow, and he stepped back. She took a deep breath, wincing from the sharp pain from her knees and between her shoulders. _Well, at least he’s as strong as he looks, no surprises there,_ she thought darkly.

   Brynjolf let her get back to her feet again and turn towards him before lunging at her. He knocked her blades aside, but before he could do anything else Mrrsizha jerked her head forward, into the center of his chest. That made him let out a short breath, and when he pulled back, he was grinning. He dodged her follow-up swing, then ducked under her swords entirely to tackle her.

   Mrrsizha’s breath gusted out of her lungs in a short yowl when her back hit the stone floor, before her skull smacked into it painfully. She struggled to push herself away from him, dazed, and Brynjolf pulled back, pressing one of his daggers to her throat. He stood a moment later, though, backing away, and Mrrsizha growled softly in her throat as she dragged herself back to her feet, her head aching.

 _Focus. You’re better than this._ She narrowed her eyes at him, ears folded, and stepped back. Her tail flicked irritably and her breath was coming hard through her nose now as she watched Brynjolf. He was stronger than her, yes, and faster than she expected, but she knew how to fight. Dammit, she’d _killed_ men like him before.

   When he attacked her again, she feinted to one side before dodging in the other direction as he tried to correct himself. She brought one of her swords up, slapping the flat across his back, and felt a little rush of triumph.

   At least, she did for the half-second before he hooked a foot around her ankle and jerked it out from under her. She only managed a short gasp before she was back on the floor again, though at least this time her head hadn’t hit so hard.

   The Khajiit blew out a harsh breath, staring at the ceiling from where she'd landed. She was smarting in a handful of places, her head was ringing, and she was beginning to get frustrated. She didn’t move, just breathing for a moment, then gasped, "Can we stop yet?" She hoped, belatedly, that it hadn't sounded too much like a whine.

   Brynjolf didn't answer at first, sheathing his daggers quietly and walking over to her, almost-silent on the stone floor. When he came to a stop beside her, he just tilted his head slightly, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at her. Mrrsizha glared back silently, though she was at least gratified to see that his breathing was hard. _Well at least it wasn’t as easy as you made it look, you bastard._

   Finally, he shook his head with a little smile, holding out a hand. "Alright, lass." She let out a relieved breath, letting him pull her to her feet when she took it. Standing this close to him, she finally noticed that she only came to his chest. _Bloody Nords._

   His other hand went to her shoulder to steady her as she stood, and he added, "The good news is, you're not too bad, and you shouldn't be getting into fights anyway."

   " _Good._ " She huffed, folding her ears back slightly. When she turned to look at him, she suspected she saw a flicker of an amused smile, and it made her ears flatten a fraction more.

   "So, now what?" She crossed her arms, suppressing the urge to wince as her back protested and hoping he was going to let her go. Brynjolf had other plans, though; he headed past her, back out into the cistern. Mrrsizha followed with a little huff.

   "We'll have to head up topside. Need to be in the city proper for this." He glanced back at her with a little smile. “Hope I didn’t rough you up too badly to perform.”

   Mrrsizha just huffed again in response, dodging between a pair of men—a Nord and an elf—who turned to watch them pass. Or _her_ , she suspected. She was sure they already knew Brynjolf, after all.

   He led her to the opposite side of the cistern, to a ladder set against the far wall. She followed him up it, and very nearly had to duck once she reached the top. It led to a bare stone chamber, and her ears flattened as soon as she straightened. The ceiling was very low; it wasn’t enough to bother her, not really, but Brynjolf had to duck slightly. There was a short flight of stairs in the back wall, leading up to the ceiling, and an iron ring, dangling from a heavy-looking chain, in the wall.

   Brynjolf gave the ring a yank and the ceiling shifted with the heavy grinding of stone-on-stone. It began to retract into the wall behind them, and Mrrsizha turned to watch it, asking, “What do we need to be in the city for?”

   Brynjolf straightened once the ceiling had pulled back far enough, stepping out of the chamber. Mrrsizha followed him up the stairs, casting her eyes around quickly. They emerged in a stone tomb—she could see Riften’s graveyard through the open door and windows—that seemed utterly unremarkable. She had to skip out of the way to avoid having her tail or foot caught when the passageway closed again. It was just a small section of the floor, now, and a plain stone sarcophagus. Completely forgettable, except for the carving on the front: the same diamond-and-circle she’d seen on the cistern’s banners. Even then, it wouldn’t have been notable to her if she hadn’t seen it once before. She looked back up, following Brynjolf out of the crypt. The windows were also the diamond-and-circle shape. She glanced around quickly once they were outside, and made a point to memorize the area.

   “Well, there’s more to our profession than lockpicking, as you know. It’s a bit difficult to test the other parts in the Guild, though.” Brynjolf led her through the graveyard as he talked, and Mrrsizha just nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. She stooped to pluck a nightshade flower from one of the plants growing near the entrance, twirling it between her fingers absentmindedly.

   “Alright. So where are we going?”

   Brynjolf turned slightly to answer her, but before he could say anything, a deep voice called, “ _Khajiit!_ ”

   Mrrsizha’s heart leapt into her throat for a moment—hearing that, especially in that tone, was rarely ever a good thing—and fought the urge to bolt, turning towards the voice. _Oh, come **on,** I haven’t even done anything illegal yet!_

   When she realized who had called after her, she felt the bottom of her stomach drop out.

   Her ears folded back and she went very still. Stalking towards them was a man she recognized too well. Even if she hadn’t remembered the helmet or the scarred face under it, the very fact that a Stormcloak was in Riften was enough.

   Mrrsizha tensed to move as Storvald approached, but felt Brynjolf’s hand press against her back gently, keeping her in one place. She glanced at him to find him giving her a brief, questioning look, but neither of them had a chance to say anything before the Stormcloak stopped, looking down at her suspiciously.

   “Where are you from, Khajiit?”

   Mrrsizha’s heart raced as she tried to think of the best response—she couldn’t say “Windhelm”, of course, but she hadn’t planned to meet him or created a story if she did—

   She was saved from having to say anything when Brynjolf took hold of her shoulder, moving her back protectively, and said, “What is this about? Mrrsizha’s been in Riften as long as anyone.”

   Storvald looked up at Brynjolf, narrowing his eyes. He glanced at Mrrsizha. “Has she, now?”

   “She has,” Brynjolf answered, his voice firm. “If there’s a problem—“

   “That remains to be seen.” Storvald hadn’t relaxed any, and Mrrsizha didn’t like the way his hand lingered on the haft of his mace, or how his attention was back on her. “Where’s your dark elf friend, Khajiit?”

   “I know a _lot_ of dark elves,” Mrrsizha answered, flattening her ears down and hoping she sounded more irritated than terrified. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” She bared her teeth in a low snarl. “If there’s something you’re trying to say, _Nord,_ say it.”

   She realized belatedly that growling at him had probably not been the wisest choice when he tensed, but Brynjolf pushed her back slightly, stepping between them.

   “Whoever you’re looking for, it isn’t our Mrrsizha.” He crossed his arms, but his voice was even. “There’s plenty of other Khajiit in Riften, and Mrrsizha’s never left it. She’s not your woman.”

   Storvald took a step back, glancing at Mrrsizha. She fought the urge to hiss at him.

   “Perhaps not,” he said simply, though it didn’t sound like he believed it. He narrowed his eyes at her, adding, “I’m watching you, cat.”

   Neither of them said anything as he turned to leave, and Mrrsizha only let out a heavy breath of relief once he was out of sight. Brynjolf turned to her, frowning.

   “Who was that? You didn’t mention anyone was after you.” His voice was low, and sounded a bit annoyed and disapproving.

   “He’s _not_ after me,” Mrrsizha answered indignantly, shaking her head and trying to work the nervous jitters out of her system. “He’s after a…friend. His name is Storvald. Guard from Windhelm.”

   “And what in the names of the Eight happened in Windhelm that made him chase you down here?” Brynjolf glanced over his shoulder after the Stormcloak.

   Mrrsizha let out a breath, her mind racing. She had to find Fadali, warn her…dammit, she might have to _leave._ She thought Storvald might be just as willing to drag her back to Windhelm’s prisons alone as an accomplice to murder even _if_ he lost Fadali for good.

   Her eyes cut to Brynjolf. _Unless…_

   “It doesn’t matter what she did.” She raised her chin, wishing he wasn’t so much taller than her and hoping he liked her as much as he seemed to. “What matters is that I can’t stay here while _he’s_ looking for us. Fadali can manage…dark elves are easy to mistake for one another. He’ll have a description of me, though.” She folded her ears back, glancing away for a moment. “I’m probably the only white Khajiit in the city. It won’t take him long to figure out that he _is_ looking for me.”

   Brynjolf tilted his head slightly, but before he could say anything, she leaned forward, adding in a low voice, “You want me. And _I_ want to stay, but I can’t with him around, especially if he gets the city guard involved.”

   Brynjolf narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “You’re asking me to stick my neck out for someone I barely know?”

   “Yes.” Mrrsizha raised her head a little, trying to make up for their difference in height. “I managed to do the Goldenglow job without a hitch, didn’t I? You said it yourself: even _Vex_ couldn’t get it done.” She blew a soft breath between her front teeth. “I wouldn’t ask if I thought I could lose him myself, but if he’s here…”

   Brynjolf let out a little breath, running a hand through his hair. “Dammit, woman. That’s not something easy you’re asking for. He’s already seen you here.”

   “I know.” She folded her ears back, then continued, softer, “You know this city better than I do, and I’m pretty sure you have contacts that can help. As long as I stay out of his sight until he’s gone, he’ll have no reason to believe I didn’t just leave town.” She let out a trembling breath. “You need me, I need him gone.”

   Brynjolf’s eyes narrowed. “We need you?” Mrrsizha took a breath. She knew what that tone meant: she had heard it often when she was still with her caravan. Not _I don’t believe you_ , but _convince me._ She could do that.

   “Yes. Goldenglow wasn’t just a lucky break, Brynjolf. I’ve been stealing since before I could walk: I’m a damn good thief.” She took another breath, trying to steady the pounding in her chest. “The Guild’s not doing well, so you… _we_ … _need_ damn good thieves. And the only reason for me not to stay is currently trying to find a white Khajiit to drag off to prison.”

   Brynjolf didn’t say anything for a moment, looking away and exhaling harshly. Mrrsizha just watched silently, her tail swishing in nervous irritation and her throat tight.

   Finally, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll get him off your tail.” He bent slightly, locking his eyes with hers and adding firmly, “You’d _better_ make this worth my while, lass.”

   “I will,” Mrrsizha answered, doing her best to match his tone as a wave of relief washed over her. Brynjolf pulled back with a huffy breath.

   “Alright, well, don’t think you’re getting off easy just because there’s a guard sniffing around for you. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

   Brynjolf didn’t keep her in the city long. It turned out he only wanted to get an idea of how good she was at staying unnoticed. He made some mention of how it was a pity that it would be too risky to use Storvald –if he caught Mrrsizha following him, he surely would have arrested her on the spot—and for that, she was grateful. She usually made a habit of avoiding guards as often as possible, especially when they were looking for _her_. Following a few of the Riften guards around without being noticed was nerve-wracking enough.

   They had stopped near the marketplace for breakfast when Brynjolf finally let out a little sigh. He was leaning one the railing by the canal, very close to where they’d first met, and Mrrsizha was sitting on the railing beside him. She looked down at the sigh, ears pricking.

   “Well, lass, as much as I’d like to keep you a bit longer, I really can’t. We both have work to do, and I shouldn’t be keeping you away from Delvin and Vex.”

   Mrrsizha didn’t answer at first, nibbling her way through her sweet roll and thinking. _Wonder why he wants to keep me, anyway._ A moment later, though, she realized her answer: _but then, I’m not the first person he’s brought in recently. Probably just wants to make sure I’m not a waste of time and resources._ She gave a little mental shrug at that, but didn’t pursue the thought any further. He’d see.

   Her ears flicked suddenly and she turned to him, remembering something. “Speaking of Vex…”

   Brynjolf raised his eyebrows. “Hm? Did she give you a hard time? That’s just her way, lass.”

   “No. Well, a little, but…” She shrugged. “I wanted to ask something.” The Khajiit paused for a moment, then said, “’Maulkin’?”

   Brynjolf blinked in surprise. “What?”

   “She called me that.” Mrrsizha paused to purse her lips, her ears flicking. “If she’s insulting me, fine, but I’d at least like to know it.”

   “Oh. Ah, well…” He shrugged slightly, reaching up to brush his hair back. “It’s not really an _insult_ , no. It means ‘cat’, is all.”

   Mrrsizha’s whiskers twitched and her tail gave a little flip. “Oh.” She huffed out a little breath. “I don’t suppose telling her I have a _name_ would help.”

   Brynjolf laughed shortly at that. “With a name like yours, no, probably not.”

   Mrrsizha growled for a second. “It isn’t _that_ hard.”

   Brynjolf didn’t answer immediately, just smiling as he pushed himself off the railing. “Well, lass, if you want to try and make her call you by your name, be my guest. Just don’t expect much to come of it.” He dusted himself off. “I’m heading back down to the Flagon. Don’t dawdle too long out here, there’s a lot to do.”

   “I won’t.” Mrrsizha glanced after him for a second as he left, then turned her attention back to the city. She wondered, absently, where Fadali was. The Khajiit frowned, picking at the icing on her sweet roll.

   She didn’t really have time to look for her right now. She let out a breath. _I’ll just go get some jobs from Delvin and Vex, then look for her. She’s smart enough not to get caught before then, probably, if she hasn’t by now._

   The Khajiit frowned at the marketplace in silence and hoped she was right.

 

* * *

 

 

   Delvin was by the Flagon’s entrance, so Mrrsizha went to him first. He looked up when she approached, raising a hand in a little wave. “Hey! Bryn said you’d be by looking for work soon.”

   “Did he? Fancy that.” Mrrsizha glanced down and moved a couple of notes on his tabletop before leaning on it. “Funnily enough, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

   “Ah, course it is.” Delvin leaned across the table slightly, looking up at her with a friendly smile. “I know Mercer and Brynjolf have had you running all over the place, so there’s not been much of a chance to get you formally acquainted with how things run around here. That’s just Bryn’s way, though: drops you in headfirst without any idea which way is up. Sound about right?”

   Mrrsizha gave a little snort of amusement. “About. So, what do I need to know?”

   “That’s the spirit, luv. With an attitude like that, you’ll be well on your way to retiring comfortably, just you watch.” He gave a little nod towards Vex, leaning against the wall on the other side of the Flagon with her arms crossed. “Vex and I will be your best friends in here. We hand out the jobs, and the more work you do, the better things will be for everyone. I handle the up-close-and-personal work—the numbers, fishing, and bedlam jobs. Vex’s the one you want to talk to if burglaries are more your thing. Keep things clean and quiet, and maybe Brynjolf or Mercer will come up with something for you to do now and then. Simple enough, right?”

   “Simple enough,” Mrrsizha answered with a nod. “So tell me about your jobs.”

   Delvin leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands. “Numbers jobs are pretty simple. Most establishments worth hitting keep their transactions recorded in business ledgers. Your job would be to change the numbers in those books so the shortfalls from our other jobs look legit.” He gestured loosely, continuing, “Bedlam jobs are a bit more complex. Sometimes we like to remind a hold that we mean business, so we hit it hard: just steal whatever we can until we've made an impression. Steal from anywhere in the hold and make sure you don’t get caught doing it, and we’ll even let you keep everything you stole.”

   He let out a breath. “As for fishing jobs…well, a lot of people like to wander around just carrying their valuables on their person, and your job would be to relieve them of them.” He raised his brows, looking up at her. “So what catches your fancy, luv?”

   Mrrsizha pursed her lips, considering for a moment. She’d never been much of a pickpocket, even though by all rights she should have been; pickpockets needed to be quick and small, after all, and she was both of those. But getting close to other people while she worked made her nervous, and nervousness made her slip up. The other two, however…

   “How about numbers, to start?” Delvin nodded, sorting through a few loose papers on the table in front of him. He plucked one out of the pile.

   “Alright. Got a simple one to start you off with. Just get in, change the books and be back in time for last call. The details are all in here.” He handed her the paper. “Hope to see you back soon.”

   Mrrsizha nodded slightly as she looked down at the paper, turning to head towards Vex as she skimmed the writing. The business in question was Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm, and below that was a list of changes she was to make to the ledger. She frowned for a moment at the city. She hadn’t planned to go back to Windhelm any time soon.

   She let out a breath as she folded the paper up and slipped it into her pocket. _Well. Nothing to do for it now. Anyway, nobody’s looking for me there, at least._

   “Heard you got the Goldenglow job done, maulkin,” Vex said once she approached. Mrrsizha didn’t answer, folding her ears back. Vex’s tone wasn’t exactly harsh, but she didn’t sound amused, either. Mrrsizha wasn’t sure if she should tread with caution or not. After all, Goldenglow _had_ been Vex’s job, and she had succeeded where the other woman had failed. She might take that personally.

   “Yeah. What about it?”

   Vex grunted in response. “Nothing about it.” She sighed. “So you’re on regular work, now. Heard you talking to Delvin, so you already know what I do. Burglaries, shills, sweeps, and heists are my thing. A burglary job is exactly what it sounds like: break in, grab a specific item, and get out before anyone knows what’s going on. You kill anyone and you forfeit your pay. Heists are basically the same, except we only do that when we have to remind someone we mean business. If that means taking something especially valuable to them…” She shrugged. “So be it.”

   She tapped her fingers on her arm, pursing her lips for a second. “A sweep is one of the quickest ways to make some coin in Skyrim. Break in to one of the wealthier homes in a city and clean out everything valuable. As for the shill jobs…well, when a client comes to us to eliminate someone, we don't operate like the Dark Brotherhood. Instead, we send you to plant some phony evidence in the mark's house, and then we tip off the town guard…and, well, the rest takes care of itself.”

   She let out a breath. “So, what’ll it be?”

   Mrrsizha’s mind went back to the job from Delvin. “Got anything in Windhelm available?” _No reason not to get two birds with one stone, after all._

   “Windhelm, eh? Hmm.” Vex tipped her head back, silent for a moment as she thought. “Yeah, I do. Shill job, a little place called the Misty Feather. I think it’s a magic shop of some sort. Just a moment.”

   Mrrsizha pricked her ears, watching Vex as she headed around to the side of the Flagon, out of sight. A moment later, she returned, tossing something to her that glittered gold-and-red in the light. Mrrsizha caught it and looked down: it was a gold necklace, with a bright red garnet dangling off the chain.

   “Go there, find somewhere to plant that where the owner won’t find it, and you’re good. Think you can handle that, maulkin?”

   Mrrsizha gave a little nod, tucking the necklace into one of her smaller pouches. “Easy enough.”

   “Good. Get out of here, then. I’d better hear good things when you come back.” Vex looked away, and that was apparently the end of the conversation.

   Mrrsizha hunted down Tonilia before she left, selling her the orcish dagger she’d picked up from Aringoth and buying a new set of picks—her remaining ones wouldn’t last her much longer. The ones Tonilia sold were actually decent, unlike the bits of scavenged metal Mrrsizha usually had to make do with. Hopefully, they would last a bit longer than most. That done, she headed back up towards the city, yawning again once she’d stepped out of the Flagon.

   Catching a carriage to Windhelm would shave quite a bit of time off her travel, and hopefully get her there and back within a day or two, total. That suited her fine; she’d left Windhelm for a _reason,_ after all, and not just because she could be implicated in a murder. When she got back, maybe she could take a second to try and get some better lodging in Riften…after all, she was in for the long haul now.

   The Khajiit wondered sleepily if she’d forgotten anything important. She continued to wonder while she made arrangements with one of the carriage drivers outside Riften’s walls, but she was too busy thinking of how nice it would be to take a nap on the way to Windhelm to focus. It was only when someone tapped her shoulder that she jerked awake, turning to face whoever wanted her attention.

   Fadali grinned down at her, putting her hand on her hip.

   “Hey stranger, heard you’re going to Windhelm. You want some company for the trip?”


	4. Chapter 4

   There was a lot Mrrsizha wanted to say to the elf on the ride to Windhelm, but she kept it all to herself.

   After all, she couldn’t very well ask _why are **you** going back to Windhelm, are you crazy o_ r _do you know Storvald is here looking for you_ or mention _so I found the Thieves’ Guild_ to her with the carriage driver listening.

   So instead they discussed the weather briefly and Goldenglow—Fadali had heard about it, though she didn’t know much beyond “some bee farm on the lake caught fire, apparently someone is trying to make a point”. Mrrsizha got the impression that Fadali was figuring out she was involved when she made it clear that she didn’t know anything about it and flicked her eyes towards the carriage driver.

   After that, Fadali started a conversation with him about dragons, and Mrrsizha soon nodded off in the sunlight.

   It was late evening when they finally arrived in Windhelm. Neither one of them said anything to each other as they entered the city. Finally, once they were out of sight and earshot of any guards, Mrrsizha stopped by the graveyard.

   “Why in the world would you come back here?”

   Fadali sighed, looking down at the gravestones. “I saw Storvald earlier. I can’t stay there with him poking around, and…” She gave a little shrug. “Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She reached up to tug lightly on Mrrsizha’s sleeve. “Looks like you’re managing pretty well. What happened with Goldenglow?”

   “Oh…” Mrrsizha looked down at herself, clad in Thieves’ Guild leathers. “Yeah. I found the Thieves’ Guild. Had to work my tail off a bit to get in, but, well.” She gestured to herself. “As for Goldenglow…big job for the Guild, apparently. Had to send a message to the owner, so I torched a few of his hives. No big deal.”

   “Ha. It sounded like a big deal, from what I heard. For him, anyway.”

   “I guess so. Wouldn’t be sending much of a message if it wasn’t.” Mrrsizha sighed. “I meant to tell you about Storvald, but I couldn’t find you.”

   “I’m pretty good at staying out of sight if I have to,” Fadali answered cheerfully. She frowned a moment later, though. “He didn’t do anything to you, right?”

   Mrrsizha shook her head. “No. He probably was going to, but Brynjolf chased him off.” At Fadali’s look of confusion, she added, “Oh! Sorry. He’s the one who recruited me. I guess he’s kind of taken me under his wing in the Guild. I get the impression he’s someone important, but haven’t really nailed down the details yet.”

   “Ah, nice, got yourself a protector already? I guess being small and cute helps with that.” The dark elf broke into a grin. “Is he handsome?”

   Mrrsizha blinked at her in surprise, and Fadali broke out laughing. “I’m just teasing. You probably don’t even find humans attractive, right?” She winked. “You’ll just have to introduce us so I can find out for myself.”

   Mrrsizha shook her head slightly. “Sure. No guarantees.” She paused, then added, “Oh, but speaking of Brynjolf…I talked to him about Storvald. He’s pretty determined to keep me in Riften, so he’ll do what he can to get Storvald out of it.”

   “Really?” Fadali’s eyebrows lifted. “You must have made one hell of an impression on this Brynjolf, then. You sure you’re not interested in humans?”

   Mrrsizha didn’t answer, just flattening her ears and staring at Fadali. The elf waved a hand at her face. “Fine, fine. Still, that’s good. I guess I’ll just stick with you for now, until he stops hunting for me. When are we heading back, by the way? Actually, why are we even _in_ Windhelm? Didn’t think you liked it much here.”

   “Oh.” Mrrsizha looked up, huffing out a breath that fogged in the air. It was snowing, just a little, and she paused to glare at a snowflake as it drifted lazily past her nose. “Guild work. Nothing as fancy as Goldenglow this time. I’ll probably be done with it soon.”

   “Neat.” Fadali was silent for a moment, rocking back on her heels. “I guess I’ll just kill time for a bit while you work, then. Don’t worry, I won’t get into trouble.”

   Mrrsizha chuckled, raising her brows. “I’m sure you won’t.”

   “Hey.” The elf grinned for a moment. “Give me some credit. I don’t get into trouble just because I _can_. I only do it when people pay me.” She looked up before Mrrsizha could answer, her ears twitching. Somewhere in the distance, a dog began to bark. “So, are we staying the night?”

   Mrrsizha let out a little breath. “Yeah. It’ll look suspicious if we leave at an odd hour. We’ll just head out early tomorrow.”

   Fadali nodded absently. “Alright. Come find me in the Grey Quarter when you’re done. I know a few places we can stay.” She cut her eyes to Mrrsizha. “They’ll probably mutter a little about you, but we care less about Khajiit than the Nords do. Well, the good ones among us, anyway.”

   The Khajiit nodded. “Okay. The Grey Quarter, then.”

   Fadali gave a little wave as she turned to leave, disappearing into the graveyard and heading off towards the east side of the city. Mrrsizha didn’t watch her go, turning her attention in the opposite direction.

   She slipped off through Windhelm’s alleys, towards the marketplace. Candlehearth Hall was at the front of the city, of course—the very first thing you saw—but it was still too early to risk going there. She would stick out too much to blend in with the crowd, so her only option was to sneak in once everyone was asleep instead.

   She wondered vaguely where the Misty Feather even _was_. Many of Windhelm’s businesses were grouped by trade, but just as many were scattered throughout the city seemingly at random. She’d never heard of it before, so she could only assume it was a small shop, and likely one of the scattered ones.

_Not near Valunstrad._ Even if it _was_ near the marketplace, it wouldn’t be there: Only the bigger, flashier shops were so close to the elite of Windhelm. Smaller businesses would be further out, and she didn’t think any store that dealt in magical supplies would be very large, in Windhelm. When she finally emerged in the marketplace, it was nearly empty, with only a few stallkeepers remaining, packing up their goods to return home. Mrrsizha ignored them, taking one of the roads towards the city wall.

   After that, however, she was at a loss. There were a few businesses out here, and past them was the housing for most of Windhelm’s populace, and there was not a single trace of the one building she was looking for.

   She felt like it was hours—though she was sure it was probably only minutes—before she very nearly stumbled upon the shop, tucked into a side street. The Khajiit stopped short, blinking blankly at the sign: a carving of a thin blue feather, and below it, the store’s name.

_Oh. Well._ She blinked at it a few more times, then glanced away before looking at the sign again, half-certain she must be reading it wrong. It didn’t change. She let out a little breath, turning her attention to the shop.

   It was narrow, squeezed between two other buildings, but looked like it went back a little ways. There were no lights that she could see through the windows. After glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was nearby, she gave the handle a cursory try before pulling out her picks and kneeling in front of the door. The lock opened after a few moments, and Mrrsizha cast another glance around the area as she tucked her picks away, before opening the door slowly.

   It smelled like magic, dust, and bird in the store. The bird-smell came from a cage at the end of the counter, and the bird in it was quietly making noise: little shuffles of movement, the soft clicking of its beak, the occasional little chirpy sound. It must be asleep. She let out a slow breath, ears pricking.

   It also smelled like human—less unusual and thus more easily overlooked—under everything else, which she assumed must be the owner. That owner must be asleep, however, or out, because there was no sign of him.

   Mrrsizha kept her step quiet all the same as she ventured into the shop, in case the owner was still home, casting her eyes about for a good hiding place. There were shelves—filled with an assortment of scrolls and soul gems and trinkets that must be enchanted—and of course there was the counter, but Mrrsizha didn’t trust that. It could be too easily found over there. She glanced at the shelves, thinking.

   If the shop was busy, they might be too risky as well. A glittering necklace could be found quite easily by a customer, or by the owner when he restocked. If it wasn’t particularly busy, though, they would do nicely. _Where wouldn’t anyone look?_

   Her eyes flicked back to the covered cage, but she dismissed it immediately. It _would_ have been funny to stow the necklace away in there, but also impractical. The owner would find it almost immediately, and anyway, birds liked shiny things. How long until the occupant of the cage dragged the necklace out into plain sight? _Oh well._

   Mrrsizha gave a little shrug, kneeling by one of the shelves. Fewer people would bother to look near the bottom. She pushed a few scrolls aside, careful to disturb the dust as little as possible, and plucked the necklace Vex had given her out of the pouch she’d stored it in. She tucked the necklace into the corner of the shelf, being sure to turn it so the garnet wouldn’t catch the light, and let the scrolls fall back into place. _Perfect. Not as amusing, but perfect._

   She let herself out the way she’d come in and headed back towards the front gate, hoping it was late enough the Candlehearth Hall had quieted down.

   It wasn’t quite midnight when she got back, and she doubted it would have gotten as quiet as she’d have liked by now. The Khajiit huffed out a breath, pacing around the building and thinking.

   She could wait, of course. That was the simplest and probably the smartest option. It was also the most _boring_ one, and Mrrsizha was confident in her skills. If she could get in without being noticed, surely she could get the job done.

_If she could get in…_

   Her eyes flicked to one of the windows. People would notice her coming in the front door, but rarely did they watch windows.

   She slipped off to the east side of the hall, ears pricking. Nobody was watching, so she selected one of the windows near the middle of the building, making sure she was alone before peering in. There wasn’t much she could see through the glass, but most importantly, there was no movement on the other side, and the room looked dark. The Khajiit glanced up again as she retrieved her shiv, then wedged it between the windowsill and the frame. A firm push, and the window opened with a quiet _crack_ as the latch broke. She hadn’t expected it to be particularly well-made, here; they rarely were. The secure windows belonged to jarls and nobility, or people with a great deal to protect.

   Mrrsizha shoved the window open, glancing around the room briefly before she hauled herself into it. It was a simple bedroom, and smelled like it belonged to a woman who slept there regularly. More importantly, however, was the large book on the only table in there. Her ears pricked as she approached, bending slightly to open it. _Oh, surely not…_

   It opened to a table of figures: neatly labeled business expenses and profits. Mrrsizha had to choke back a little laugh. _The ledger!_ She hadn’t expected to find it without some hunting, and here it was, in the very room she entered.

   She flipped through the pages until she got to the end, then unfolded the paper Delvin had given her on one page. A quick investigation of the room produced an inkwell and pen, and she took a breath, glancing at the figures already written in.

   There were two kinds of handwriting: one loopy and loose, and the other straighter and more deliberate. She did her best to reproduce the second style as she copied down the figures Delvin had given her, pausing to go back over a few characters before she put the inkwell and pen back where she’d found them. It wouldn’t do for the forgery to be caught.

   It felt like it took forever for the ink to dry, and Mrrsizha examined the room to steady her nerves while she waited. There wasn’t much of interest in it, though, and she was soon pacing as quietly as she could, listening to the sounds of activity throughout the building and hoping nobody noticed the open window.

   Once the ink had finally dried, she closed the ledger and set it back where it had been. A moment later she was back outside, the window closed quietly behind her, and heading for the Grey Quarter. She hoped Fadali wouldn’t be too difficult to find.

 

* * *

 

   The Grey Quarter was cramped and smelled like it didn’t belong in Windhelm. There was, of course, the general slummy smell that came with more run-down areas of cities, but that wasn’t the odd part: it also smelled like strange spices and alcohols and perfumes, fabrics that were just not-quite-right, and ash and darkness and elves. She wondered, briefly, if this was how Morrowind must smell.

_Probably not,_ she thought as she made her way through the quarter, trying not to feel out of place. _It probably smells stranger._

   She stopped when she caught a whiff of Fadali’s scent, almost lost under all the other dark elf smell that permeated the area. She let out a little breath of relief, following it; it was easier to pick up, now that she’d found it.

   The scent led her to a run-down building tucked against the wall, dark except for the ragged red banners framing the doorway. It felt quiet and unassuming, and Mrrsizha couldn’t hear much from inside. But then, it was late.

   Fadali was at the bar immediately across from the door, leaning across it to talk to the Dunmer who must be the owner, loose and casual. He looked up at Mrrsizha first when she entered, and then Fadali did. Her back stiffened slightly.

   “Oh, Mrr! I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find me, I was about to go looking for you.” She turned back to the owner, adding, “Well, it’s nice seeing you again, Madas, but I think we’re leaving early tomorrow. Right…?” She glanced back at Mrrsizha, then nodded before the Khajiit could answer. “Right. Anyway, we’d better get some rest.”

   Madas said something in response that Mrrsizha didn’t catch when Fadali half-dragged her off upstairs. The Dunmer didn’t let her go until she’d closed the door behind them, and let out a harsh breath. Mrrsizha blinked at her in surprise as she fell back on the only chair in the room.

   “Fadali?” Mrrsizha’s ears folded. “Did something happen? You’re…”

   “No,” she answered. Her voice had a high, tight, strained sort of sound to it, like she was nervous. “We’re going back to Riften soon, right?”

   Mrrsizha narrowed her eyes, frowning at the elf. She growled shortly. “What did you do?”

   “Do? I didn’t _do_ anythi—oh, you think I got into trouble. Well I _didn’t,_ thank you.” She paused for a second, cocking her head. One ear flicked, and her voice dropped. “I was just minding my own business, and I heard a…rumor. About this kid, trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood…you know who they are, right? A group of assassins—“

   “I know what the Dark Brotherhood is, Fadali,” Mrrsizha answered. She flicked her eyes to the shadows after she said it, just for a moment. “And this kid is in Riften?”

   “Hm? No. He’s here.” Fadali let out a breath, looking away. “I was curious, alright? And I figured you would be busy for a while. So I went to investigate, and…” She paused, tipping her head side-to-side and pursing her lips. Mrrsizha took it to mean she was trying to figure out how to continue. Finally, she said, “Look, I guess I look like an assassin, okay?”

   Mrrsizha frowned for a moment. _Not particularly._ A second later, though, she reconsidered the thought: a tall, pale Dunmer woman with dark clothing and hair, her eyes glowing dim red as she stepped—or slinked, rather, because Fadali always seemed to either be slinking or strutting—out of the shadows…maybe she _could_ pass for an assassin, to a child.

   Back in reality, Fadali was still talking. “…I think I had a family member who was in the Brotherhood once, maybe there’s a _look_ that runs in the family… _anyway_ , he thought I was one, and…and the next thing I know, he hired me.”

   Mrrsizha’s ears flattened.

   “You got _hired_ ,” she repeated slowly, her voice low, “by a _child_ …to go _kill_ someone?”

   “Basically!” Fadali answered, a little too cheerful, though it was a strained sort of cheer. Her ears dropped and she scowled at the look on Mrrsizha’s face. “Look, stop it. I know, okay? Kids…I know. They make bad choices. But you didn’t hear him. He’s a sweet kid…er, considering. And he’s an orphan! Apparently there’s an orphanage in Riften?” She waved a hand dismissively when Mrrsizha opened her mouth, continuing, “Well, point is, the woman who owns it? He made her sound like a horrid bitch.” She sighed. “Look, Mrr, all I’m saying is, we’re going back to Riften anyway. Maybe we could look into it? I’m not going to kill her if she doesn’t deserve it, don’t worry. I promise. I just…maybe it’s worth looking at?”

   Mrrsizha sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Do what you want, Fadali. I didn’t hear anything.”

   “Good enough,” Fadali answered, straightening. She exhaled shortly. “So, how’s work?”

   “Done,” Mrrsizha answered. “And I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

   “You and me both,” Fadali answered, slumping a little. “So, first thing tomorrow?”

   “First thing tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

   It was quiet the next morning when they caught a carriage back to Riften, slipping out of the city without any trouble. They were back at Riften’s walls by the time the sky had started to darken.

   “So,” Fadali began after they passed through the gate, “do you know where this orphanage is, by chance? I haven’t seen one, but I’ve been too busy watching my back.” As she spoke, the elf glanced over her shoulder.

   Mrrsizha was quiet for a moment, thinking. “What was it called?”

   “Honorhall, I think. Run by some woman called Grelod?”

   The Khajiit’s ears pricked. She could vaguely remember a Honorhall, now, and more importantly she remembered hearing about a Grelod. She was one of the common complaints about Riften, it seemed, though nobody was willing or able to do anything about her.

   “I think so. Don’t know much about Grelod. Just that nobody likes her, I think. Come on.”

   Fadali grunted as she followed Mrrsizha towards the marketplace. “That sounds about right, from what Aventus said.” Mrrsizha paused to glance back at her, a brow raised, and she added, “The kid.”

   “Oh.” Mrrsizha looked up, her whiskers twitching, as they neared the jarl’s palace. “Over there.”

   The orphanage was in sight of the palace, a large wooden building that was partially walled off. Mrrsizha was only sure it was the right place because of the metal sign above the door, so old and worn it almost blended in with the wood; there was certainly no indication that children might live there.

   Fadali stopped beside her, putting her hands on her hips and pursing her lips. “Well. Damn. I hadn’t thought this far.” She let out a breath. “How are we going to get in? I mean, we can’t just use the front door…”

   Mrrsizha’s ears flattened and she looked up at the elf, thinking incredulously, **_we?_** She didn’t say anything, though, just huffing out a short breath and starting towards the wall.

   “Can you climb?” The wall was stone and taller than her, with dark metal spikes lining the top. Mrrsizha had seen worse.

   “Climb?” Mrrsizha could hear the frown in Fadali’s voice. “Well, yeah, a little, but…”

   “Well, time to learn, then.” Mrrsizha led the Dunmer to the darkest part of the wall. There were no guards nearby, luckily, and she didn’t expect there would be. It was just an orphanage, after all; better to focus their attention on the palace, only a few yards away. Anyway, this part of town was quiet, so close to the jarl.

   Mrrsizha glanced over her shoulder for a moment, flattening her palms against the wall. Satisfied nobody was nearby, she placed a foot against the wall, took a breath, and boosted herself upwards; it was just enough for her to catch hold of the top, between the spikes, and after that it was just a matter of hauling herself up there. Getting over was a bit tricky while avoiding the spikes, but not enough to stop her; a moment later, she landed on the other side with a breath.

   “Think you can manage?” She called quietly to Fadali as she looked around the small yard the wall protected. The grass had been allowed to grow somewhat wild here, and besides that, it was utterly empty. It looked as if nobody had been outside for a while…at least, not for any amount of time.

   “Oh, Azura help me.” Fadali sighed heavily on the other side of the wall and Mrrsizha snorted.

   The Dunmer was clumsier than her, but she managed to get over all the same, though she had to bite her lip to keep from swearing when one of the spikes bit into her leg. She didn’t hold the curse in once she’d made it to the other side, though, stopping to examine the wound. Mrrsizha frowned.

   “Are you—?”

   “Just a scratch, _fuck._ ” The elf exhaled shortly, glaring up at the wall. “I’ll be okay. It’s not bleeding much, just hurts a lot. And you just…dammit, Khajiit, I hate you.”

   Mrrsizha sighed in response. “It’s just practice, Fadali.”

   “Yeah, I’m sure being a cat doesn’t help _at all_.” The elf let out a breath, turning her attention to the orphanage. “Okay. Now we’re over here. What did that accomplish?”

   Mrrsizha jerked her chin upwards, heading for the wall. “We need to get on the roof.”

   “The _roo_ —? This is not worth it.”

   “Well, you should have decided that before agreeing to it. We’re already here. Let’s go.”

   She heard Fadali sigh behind her, but ignored it as she headed for the corner of the building, where the jutting logs would surely provide enough handholds for Fadali to manage. The orphanage was all wood, at least, so it wasn’t difficult for Mrrsizha to climb; even if she slipped, there was plenty of material to dig her claws into.

   By the time she was on the roof and had turned to look down at Fadali, the elf was shaking her head. “I don’t know how you do that.”

   “Practice. Now be quiet before a guard comes over.” Mrrsizha flattened herself to the roof, uneasily aware that she was terribly visible up there, should anyone bother to look. She gestured at Fadali. “Come on, it’s not that hard. I’ll be here to help pull you up.”

   “Tiny thing like you? I’m not reassured.” All the same, though, the Dunmer put her hands to the wall, frowning at it. Mrrsizha rolled her eyes since Fadali wasn’t looking at her.

   She only slipped once, biting back a yelp of alarm, and once she was close enough Mrrsizha leaned over to grab her arm, half-pulling her up onto the roof. Fadali’s breathing was hard—equal parts exhilaration, alarm, and exertion, probably—and her eyes wide, but she was grinning.

   “That actually worked! I was _not_ expecting that to…hey!”

   “Quiet,” Mrrsizha said again, already starting across the roof as softly as she could, aware that any noise she made would be amplified for the people inside. “And step lightly. And watch out for weak spots.”

   “Okay, okay.” Fadali followed her, not as quietly as Mrrsizha would have liked, but quietly enough that she didn’t say anything. “Are you going to tell me why we’re up here?”

   “No windows,” Mrrsizha answered, “at least, not many. And we can’t use the doors. So we’ll have to get in through the roof.”

   “Through…the…roof.”

   “Yes.” Mrrsizha’s eyes flicked over the rooftop, looking for the spot she’d marked earlier. “There’s a place I saw up here a couple days ago. Might be a hole, I’m not sure. But it’s something to start with.”

   She heard Fadali huff behind her, right as she found the spot she’d seen. It was a hole, but only a small one. Still, the shingles around it were weathered and worn, and needed to be replaced badly. They would be easy to pry up. They were on the back of the building now, facing out towards the lake, and nobody would be able to see them while they worked.

   Mrrsizha went to her stomach, peering through the small hole to see where it led. It wouldn’t do to drop down into a room full of people, after all. The room was dark, and probably small, but she wasn’t sure of much else: there was practically no light on the other side, and even her eyesight was only so good in almost complete darkness.

   She looked up at Fadali, and gestured downwards. “Get down. Spread your weight out, that way you won’t break through the roof.”

   Fadali let out a breath as she did so, answering in a low whisper, “And if I get the sudden urge to throw up because I’m not supposed to be up here?”

   “Ignore it,” Mrrsizha answered, wiggling a hand underneath herself to retrieve her shiv from her one of her pouches. Fadali sighed, but said nothing in response.

   The Khajiit began prying the shingles loose without a word, setting them aside as she did and hoping they wouldn’t all slide off the roof and into the lake. A splash might attract attention. The wood around the hole was rotten and weak, and it didn’t take long before she’d pulled it all away. Once she got to the firmer, sturdier part of the roof, the hole was wide enough for her, and just barely wide enough for Fadali’s hips.

   “Okay. That should do it.” Mrrsizha tucked her shiv away, turning to dangle her feet through the hole. She kicked a rafter lightly, and made note of its position. “You okay?”

   “I’ll be better once I’m on solid ground,” Fadali answered. Mrrsizha gave a little shrug, and dropped through the hole.

   She landed lightly on a wooden floor covered in dusty straw. She moved out of the way for Fadali, but couldn’t go far: the room was barely big enough for the two of them to fit in. As she backed up against a wall, her hand brushed something metal bolted into it.

   The Khajiit blinked in surprise, turning to looking down as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Only a little light spilled in from under the door—it must have been lights-out in the orphanage—and it was barely enough for her to make out even the basic shapes of things, but it was enough for her to see what she’d touched.

   A set of manacles had been bolted into the wall, very old and too small for adult wrists. Mrrsizha’s ears folded back and she stared at them in silence for a second, trying to ignore the queasy turn in her stomach and processing what she was seeing.

   Fadali landed behind her a second later, and she looked up. “Fadali, look…”

   “What…?” The elf cut off when Mrrsizha took her hand and laid it against the manacles. Her eyes widened. “Is that…?”

   “Yes.” Mrrsizha glanced around the cramped room. “There’s two others.” She took a breath through her nose. “…one of them smells like someone. A girl. She was here recently.”

   “What in the names of all the gods is going on in here?” Fadali’s voice was still quiet, but had gone tight with barely-constrained anger. Mrrsizha squeezed past her without answering, to the door. It was locked, but Mrrsizha didn’t pull out her picks immediately, pressing her ear to the door to listen.

   It was quiet on the other side, though she couldn’t tell much through the thick wood. After a few moments, though, she heard a short, sniffling sob, muffled. She cast her eyes up at Fadali, and by the way the elf’s eyes had widened, her ears dropping, she guessed she’d heard it too.

   She was deciding how to approach the situation when she heard movement, then a voice saying softly, “Oh, Runa, don’t cry. You know she’ll just get angry if you do.”

   The voice belonged to a woman, high-pitched and gentle and so, so sad. She sounded very tired.

   “She’s _always_ angry.” The second voice was a young girl’s, choked with tears. She sniffed again and was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t even do anything, but she kept me in there _all day_ before you got back—“

   “I know, honey,” the first voice answered, “I’m so sorry.”

   “Aventus _promised_ ,” Runa said, her voice suddenly fierce. “He promised if he got out he would summon the Dark Brotherhood. I wish he just _would_ already—“

   “Don’t say that, Runa, you don’t mean that.” There was movement. “Just…try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll…I’ll try to talk to Grelod tomorrow.”

   “Okay.” Runa’s voice had softened, but it sounded like sullen acceptance more than anything else. “Good night, Constance.”

   “Good night, sweetie.” There was movement again, footsteps away from the door—Constance leaving—and a moment of silence.

   Finally, to herself, Runa muttered, “I _do_ mean it.”

   Mrrsizha looked up at Fadali, and the Dunmer’s mouth was set in a thin, hard line, her hands clenched at her sides as she did her best to glare a hole into the door. She let out a slow breath, then said, quietly enough that Runa wouldn’t hear, “I’m going to kill her, Mrr.”

   “Good.” Mrrsizha looked back at the door, pulling her picks out of her pouch. “Because if you weren’t, I was.”

   She laid her kit out in front of her, but didn’t move to pick the lock on the door yet, listening. Runa fidgeted for a bit, sniffed a few more times, and finally, went quiet. Only then did Mrrsizha slip one of her picks into the lock.

   It wasn’t a complex one—probably just enough to keep the children out. Mrrsizha swallowed, frowning. _Or in._ She eased the door open slowly as she tucked her picks back into their pouch, peering out into the room beyond for a moment before deeming it safe.

   It must have been the main room of the orphanage, as it was big enough to take up most of the building. A small fireplace was against one wall, but most of the room was taken up with small beds, most occupied by a child. The children were all human, and all asleep; there was a blonde girl in the bed closest to the door, and she couldn’t have been older than eight. She must have been Runa: her scent matched the one on the manacles.

   Mrrsizha swallowed, creeping out into the room, unable to keep her eyes from flickering across the sleeping forms. The children had a sort of desperate, thin look to them, and even asleep, they looked miserable. _By the Twin Moons, what happened in here?_

   Behind her, Fadali said, very softly: “ _Gods._ ” She let out a breath. “Where is this bitch?”

   Mrrsizha swallowed, shaking her head and tearing her eyes away from the occupants of the room. She took a breath, concentrating. Besides the children, only two other people seemed to live here: both women, both human, one older than the other. Constance must be one, and she had sounded young, so that left only one option.

   She gestured at Fadali to follow as she traced the older woman’s scent through the room. It led to a double door that wasn’t locked, and behind that was a large bedroom with only one occupant. An old woman was asleep in the bed, unaware of them.

   Mrrsizha did a quick check of the room as Fadali drew her dagger, approaching the sleeping woman. There were two large coin purses on a table tucked against the wall, but Mrrsizha left them where they were, despite the nagging urge to take them. The orphanage would have a new hole to repair, after all, and whoever ended up taking over this place would need the money to care for the children more than she did. After a moment of thought, she plucked one of her own coin purses—one she’d gotten from Goldenglow, she thought—out of where she stored them, setting it down neatly with the other two.

   Fadali let out a breath, quiet but harsh, and Mrrsizha turned to find her standing over Grelod, her red eyes blazing in the dark.

   “Gods. She doesn’t even deserve to have her throat cut, you know?” Mrrsizha made a huffy little noise, and Fadali glanced at her briefly. “What? I _am_ going to, but…I just wish I could, I don’t know, maybe dig her eyes out first or something.” She sighed. “Oh well. Can’t have her screaming and waking up the whole city, that would be inconsiderate of me.”

   With that, the Dunmer brought her dagger across Grelod’s throat, neatly sidestepping the gush of blood. Grelod didn’t even make a sound, just choking quietly as her eyes snapped open. Fadali grinned for a moment, and said, her voice low, “Aventus says hello.”

   They stayed until Grelod had gone still, and Fadali gave a little nod. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

   There was another door in the main room, near the fireplace, which Mrrsizha suspected led to the walled-off yard outside. It was locked, but she made short work of it, and after a few moments they were outside again. Mrrsizha glanced up at Fadali. “Can I get back to _my_ business, now?”

   “Yeah, yeah, sure.” Fadali looked over her shoulder, at the door. “…I think she saw us.”

   Mrrsizha’s ears snapped back, her eyes widening as a chill ran down her spine. “ _What?!_ ”

   “No, calm down! Runa, I mean. The little blonde girl.” Fadali let out a breath, shaky. “I thought I saw her look up, when you were fiddling with the lock, but she didn’t…she didn’t say anything, or anything. I mean, she might have just been shifting.”

   Mrrsizha growled, low in her throat. “ _Fadali._ ”

   “I would have said something if I was really worried, Mrr!” The elf shook her head, starting towards the wall. “Look, come on, let’s just go. It’s not like she’s going to rat us out when they find out Grelod’s dead, okay? She _wanted_ her dead.”

   Mrrsizha snarled shortly in response, but followed her, helping boost Fadali over the wall before climbing over it herself. She dusted herself off with a sigh.

   “Fine. I’m going back to turn in my jobs, okay? We’ll meet up at the marketplace?”

   “Marketplace, sure.” Fadali waved a hand. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

   Mrrsizha huffed out a breath as she started towards the Ratway, ears still folded. She just hoped Fadali was right about Runa.

 

* * *

 

   Mrrsizha had barely made it past the Flagon’s sign when Delvin gestured at her, calling, “’Ey, maulkin! I was hoping you’d be back soon.”

   She paused for a half-second, flicking her whiskers and wondering vaguely if being called that was going to become a _theme_. With a little mental shrug, she made her way to his table. _Well, they could call me worse things, I guess._ “Something you need?” The space in front of him was filled with a collection of folded papers, divided neatly into two stacks, with a single sheet between them. It was partly filled with notes, and from a glance, Mrrsizha took it to be a record of completed jobs, though it was difficult to tell from Delvin’s shorthand.

   “After a fashion, luv, hold a moment…ah.” He pulled out a paper from the stack to his right, unfolding it and reading it for a moment before giving a little nod. “Just, I was talking to Brynjolf earlier about this job, and he recommended you. Fair warning, the reason he did is because the owners have invested in a nasty set of locks. The sort of business we’d normally have Vex take care of. But he thought I should let the new girl have a go at it, so if you’re interested…”

   “Done,” Mrrsizha answered without hesitation, taking the paper from him. Delvin blinked, then made a sound like a short laugh as she looked down at it. Like before, it was a location—in Whiterun, this time—and a list of figures. Not very exciting, but then, it wasn’t the job itself that was interesting: it was getting it done.

   “Well, alright then. Hope you’re as good as you think you are. Speaking of which, how did things go in Windhelm?”

   She glanced up. “Oh. Job’s done, no complications.” She glanced around the Flagon, frowning. “Where’s Vex?”

   “Out. Working. I’m handling her business for a bit, if you had a job to turn in for her too.”

   “Ah. Well, I did. The Misty Feather, in—“

   “—Windhelm, right? Yeah, I heard you two talking before you left.” He jotted something down on the paper in front of him, glanced up at her, and raised an eyebrow. “No trouble?”

   Mrrsizha shook her head and he nodded, making a pleased sound. “Good to hear. Nice to see someone’s not having any.” He bent, rummaging around in the darkness beside his seat, but before Mrrsizha could lean over to look he straightened again and handed her a coinpurse. “That should about cover it for both jobs, I think. Picking up any new ones from Vex while you’re here? I think she had a couple in Whiterun, since you’ll be headed that way…” He nodded slightly to the paper he’d given her. “If not, well, let me know what strikes your fancy.”

   “Whiterun will do,” she answered. “What are they?”

   “A burglary and a sweep, I believe.” He turned his attention to the small collection of folded papers at his left: the notes on Vex’s jobs, no doubt. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll find the details here…”

   “I’ll take them both.”

   Delvin’s eyebrows lifted and he paused. “You sure, luv? Lot to be doing at once.” He retrieved the two papers he’d been looking for, but didn’t move to hand them to her.

   “I’m sure. I’m going to Whiterun anyway, aren’t I?” She gestured with the note he’d given her already. “No reason not to get them done at once.”

   He made a low noise in his throat, and she wasn’t sure whether to take it as disapproval or cautious admiration. Either way, he held up the notes. “Alright, maulkin. Suit yourself. You get caught, though, we’ve never heard of you.”

   “Wasn’t planning to get caught,” she answered with a little smile as she took them. “See you in a few days.”

   “Happy thieving, maulkin.” Delvin gave a little wave as she turned to leave.

 

* * *

 

   When Mrrsizha got to the marketplace to meet up with Fadali, the Dunmer was sitting on the low wall surrounding it, occasionally tossing a small rock towards the well in the center. Mrrsizha only saw one actually land in it, but then, she didn’t think Fadali was really trying.

   She looked up before Mrrsizha could say anything. “Hey, you’re back. Finally. This city is so _boring_ after dark.” Mrrsizha paused for a moment to shake her head. In the past few hours, they’d managed to break into an orphanage, murder an old woman, and—in her case—rub shoulders with the local gang of criminals, and Fadali thought Riften was _boring._

   “Well, I’m terribly sorry about that. I’m not sure what you were expecting, though.”

   Fadali snorted in response, sliding off the wall. “Anyway, I’m guessing you have somewhere to stay, or something? You know this city better than me, I think. Which is actually pretty funny considering we arrived at the same time.”

   Mrrsizha raised a brow at her as she started away from the marketplace, towards the part of the city where the Cat’s Rest was. “I spent my time learning the city. You spent it watching your back.”

   Fadali shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess.”

   “Anyway, yes, I have somewhere to stay.” Mrrsizha sighed. “Though I think I should start looking for something more permanent soon.”

   “Well, we can do that tomorrow, right?” When Mrrsizha looked at her, Fadali shrugged. “What? You’re not getting rid of me now, right? As far as I’m concerned, we’re still stuck together for a bit. Unless…”

   The Khajiit shook her head, cutting her off. “It’s fine. Not tomorrow, though. I have work in Whiterun, so I want to get on the road early.”

   “Whiterun? Never been there. Can’t be worse than Windhelm, though.”

   “It’s not so bad,” Mrrsizha answered. “Trade city, so it takes a lot to make them take notice of you there. I always liked it best out of our route.” When Fadali blinked at her, she gestured vaguely, adding, “When I was with my caravan. We travelled from Markarth to Windhelm. Well, the farms outside Windhelm, really. Anyway, Whiterun was one of our stops, and I liked it best. Markarth was too…big and confusing. So many pathways, and none of them made sense. Windhelm was…well, Windhelm, you know how _it_ is. Whiterun, though? Whiterun wasn’t so bad.”

   “I thought the caravans weren’t allowed in the cities.” Fadali’s voice sounded a little amused, like she already knew how Mrrsizha was going to answer. The Khajiit snorted.

   “Technically. That’s why you don’t get caught.” She glanced back at the elf, adding, “Anyway, who was going to really worry about a lone Khajiit cub wandering around town by herself? Stay out of the way and nobody notices or cares. I’m very good at staying out of the way.”

   Before Fadali could answer, Mrrsizha’s eyes landed on the sign for the Cat’s Rest. “Ah. There it is. Not the best place, but better than nothing.”

   Fadali shrugged with a little smile. “Works for me, I’m adaptable. Can’t be much worse than the Grey Quarter, right?”

   Mrrsizha didn’t answer, just chuckling as she led Fadali inside.


	5. Chapter 5

  True to her word, Mrrsizha woke shortly after the sun had risen, and had to nearly drag Fadali out of bed. She was about to give up and leave the elf behind when, grumbling, Fadali finally fought her off and declared that she was awake, already.

  Mrrsizha rather doubted it, but she didn’t argue.

  Fadali was much quieter when she was tired, it seemed, since she barely said a word as they started off on the road towards Windhelm. She was quiet all morning, in fact, until they stopped in Shor’s Stone around midday; when they were leaving, the elf finally cleared her throat. Mrrsizha looked back at her, ears pricking.

  “I have to ask. What’s with the bag?”

  Mrrsizha blinked in silence at the question, unsure how to answer. Fadali nodded to her hip, and she looked down, realizing what she meant.

  “This?” She tapped a claw against the small pouch at her hip. It was about the size of a coin purse, and utterly unremarkable, except for the fact that it shimmered faintly with blue light. She’d had it for quite a while—long before leaving her caravan—and more-or-less forgot it was there most of the time.

  “Well, how many others do you carry?” The Dunmer looked pointedly at her shoulder. “It’s not like I failed to notice that you’re not carrying a pack, you know. And it glows. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it’s magical.”

  Mrrsizha shrugged loosely. “It is.”

  Fadali didn’t answer, watching her for a moment in silence. She pursed her lips. Finally, Mrrsizha sighed.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Not if I can help it,” the dark elf answered cheerfully. She gestured at the surrounding countryside. “Anyway, what else do we have to talk about? Family? Interests? Our lives outside of crime? Pah. Now tell me about the glowing bag.”

  Mrrsizha snorted shortly in response, but she wasn’t sure if it was amusement or annoyance. “I got it when I was fifteen. A wandering wizard came across our caravan…high elf, about as pleasant as most of them.”

  Fadali arched an eyebrow at her. “And…you stole it?”

  Mrrsizha snorted. “He should have guarded it better if he didn’t want it stolen.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I don’t know much about it. Magic’s not my thing. I just know that I can put pretty much anything I want in it.”

  Fadali’s ears pricked at that. “ _Anything?_ ”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure. I mean, maybe it has a limit, but I haven’t found it yet.” Mrrsizha was quiet for a moment, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Actually…I should probably check and see what’s in it soon. I’m…not entirely sure I remember everything.”

  “Oh! So it’ll be a surprise for both of us? Good!” When Mrrsizha looked up at her, Fadali’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “Wait, if you can put _anything_ in there, and it’s apparently not too heavy…”

  “…yes?”

  “Why am _I_ still carrying my pack?”

  Mrrsizha sighed. She stopped, turned to Fadali, and held out a hand without a word.

  Fadali blinked in surprise at her, then slipped her pack off her shoulders and held it out. The elf’s ears pricked and she leaned over a little to watch as Mrrsizha put it into the glowing bag at her hip: first just part of a strap, and then the rest slipped in easily behind it, the mouth of the bag magically expanding to accommodate it. By the time she pulled it closed and looked up, Fadali’s eyes had gone wide.

  “That must be _so useful,_ ” she breathed. She blinked at Mrrsizha, adding with a sheepish grin, “And that actually worked? I was just giving you a hard time, I wasn’t really _expecting_ you to…”

  Mrrsizha huffed out a little breath. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

  Fadali laughed shortly. “No promises.”

 

* * *

 

  They made it to Windhelm without incident, and Fadali stopped short in front of the city before they could carry on past it.

  “Hey.” She glanced at Mrrsizha, who was busy squinting suspiciously at the clouds gathering in the west and wondering if they might be trouble. The Khajiit looked up, ears twitching.

  “Hm?”

  “I’m going to head into the city real quick.” She jerked her head towards the gate. “Talk to Aventus, you know? About Grelod. It’ll be quick.”

  Mrrsizha pursed her lips, frowning at the guards on the walls, who were watching them impassively—probably only for lack of anything more interesting to look at, but Mrrsizha didn’t like being watched. Especially by guards. “…alright,” she said. “Hurry. I’ll be out here.”

  The Khajiit chose a rock by the roadside, brushing snow off the top of it before she sat down to wait. It only took a few minutes before she got bored, though, and turned her attention to her bag.

  A brief inspection led to the discovery of a few things she didn’t remember putting in it: some miscellaneous jewelry, a few books of varying sizes and subjects, and most surprisingly of all, a large statue of a golden bee. She remembered it, now—it was from Goldenglow—but wasn’t sure what to do with it. Pretty as it was, she didn’t have any particular interest in keeping it, herself. _Not that I have anywhere to put it, anyway._ Though, someone at the Guild would probably be willing to take it off her hands…she made a mental note to talk to Tonilia about it when she got back to Riften, and wondered idly if she would remember.

  She selected one of the books—a battered copy of _The Locked Room_ that she’d stolen years ago in Markarth, and one of her favorites—and squirmed to get comfortable, opening it to the first page.

  She wasn’t very far into the book by the time Fadali returned, however. Mrrsizha snapped the book closed without marking her page, tucking it back into her bag and standing.

  “Ready to go?”

  “As long as you are.”

  Mrrsizha nodded, turning to head off down the road in the direction of Whiterun. “I assume things went well?”

  “As well as they could, anyway. Poor kid.” Fadali sighed. “He said he’ll head back to Riften, now. It’s sad, really…but I suppose with Grelod gone there’s a chance someone might adopt him. There’s that, at least.” The dark elf looked over her shoulder and was quiet for a moment. Finally, her voice soft, she added, “I hope he’ll be okay. It’s a long way to Riften, for him.”

  “Well, he already made the trip once, didn’t he?” Mrrsizha glanced back, and Fadali nodded. “I’m sure he can do it again.”

  “…I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

  They were a day out from Windhelm and had just passed a fork in the road that lead off towards Dawnstar—placing them somewhere in the Pale, if Mrrsizha guessed correctly, though their surroundings were grassy plains she associate with Whiterun rather than the snows associated with the northern holds—when Mrrsizha smelled someone that didn’t belong.

  She stopped short in the road, jerking her head up and sniffing the air, short and sharp. Sure enough, the light wind brought with it the scent of elves; high elves, at least three distinctive individuals she could make out the smell of. She took a step back, and Fadali asked, puzzled, “What is it?”

  “…nothing. Maybe.” She took another step back, tail twitching, then said, “Keep going. I’ll catch up.”

  Before Fadali could answer, Mrrsizha ducked off the road, disappearing into a stand of bushes and out of sight. Fadali had turned to see where she was going, beginning, “Mrr—“ but she cut off once she realized she had gone.

  She let out a breath, putting her hands on her hips. “Dammit. What in the world…” Before she could finish the thought, there were footsteps on the path, and she looked up.

  A trio of high elves were coming down the road, two in gleaming armor and one in a dark robe, trimmed with gold. Mrrsizha’s ears flattened as she watched them. _Thalmor._ She’d been afraid of that; one high elf was unremarkable, but if they travelled in packs, it was usually because they were Thalmor.

  Fadali had gone tense when she saw them, and she stepped aside, dropping her eyes. The mage—a woman—cast her a brief glance, openly sneering.

  “Dark elf,” she said, her tone clipped and the emphasis on the first word. She said it in the same way the Nords in Windhelm sometimes said _greyskin,_ and Mrrsizha felt a little growl bubbling up in her throat, though she choked it down before it could become audible.

  Fadali said nothing in response, just raising her chin once they’d passed and glaring after them in silence before turning back down the road. Mrrsizha let her attention go back to the Thalmor, watching them pass her hiding spot. It was only once they’d gotten a little further down the road that she slipped after them, silent.

  It was already evening, so the sky was beginning to darken. That provided no problems for Mrrsizha, but for elves…at any rate, they would be stopping soon. Hopefully, so would Fadali. _Probably,_ Mrrsizha thought, _since she has no idea what I’m doing._ Either way, Fadali knew they were going to Whiterun, so if nothing else Mrrsizha just had to follow the road to find her.

  She pondered it as she followed the Thalmor, her ears pricked and her heart pounding with the same exhilaration she felt while pulling off a particularly daring theft. _Calm, calm. Patience, Mrrsizha. They’ll stop soon. They have to._ _Besides, they don’t even know you’re here._

  It felt like hours before the woman—the leader, it seemed—called for them to make camp for the night, though Mrrsizha knew it couldn’t have been more than several minutes; it didn’t take hours for full dark once evening had already fallen. The Khajiit crouched behind a large rock at the roadside, watching the elves move off to find a place to camp.

  Once one of the mage’s bodyguards stepped away from her, Mrrsizha moved, slowly drawing one of her swords so as not to make any noise. Even if she hadn’t been able to see in the dark, the high elf’s armor would have been as good as a beacon, gleaming like it did in the moonslight.

  He was too tall for her to cover his mouth, so this would have to be quick and precise; the Khajiit held her breath as she slipped up behind him, making sure to keep her blade clear of anything it could catch on. She couldn’t reach his face easily, but she could reach his throat, uncovered by armor; in one swift motion, she grabbed his throat from behind, digging her claws in as deeply as she could as she thrust her sword into a weak place in his armor, between the gleaming plates; he made a short noise, grabbing at her hand, but it was choked and he cut off before he could pull away from her. She fell back onto one knee, lowering the elf down and sliding her blade free of his ribs. She glanced up for a moment to make sure she hadn’t been seen, then slipped back off, into hiding.

  She was trying to find a new place to observe the area when she heard the woman call, “Linion?” Mrrsizha’s breath caught and she crouched down in the grass, silent. The elf’s voice was tight and tense: something had alerted her. A light lit up in her palm, bright in the dark, as she turned to survey the area. Her second bodyguard had gone missing as well, and the fur down Mrrsizha’s spine lifted. _Where was she?_

  “ _Linion?_ Mirlae?” She let out a short breath when she received no answer, turning and casting her light around; Mrrsizha tensed to move, but she stopped short before the light fell on her, making a choked sound.

  She had found the body of the guard Mrrsizha had killed—Linion, she guessed—and it she froze for a second before releasing the light to float around her, her hands lighting up with electricity. “ _Show yourself!_ ”

  Mrrsizha was trying to figure out how to best approach the elf when there was movement on the Thalmor’s other side. She whirled, magic crackling in her palms, and for a second, Mrrsizha could make out a dark shape and a flash of red eyes—until the Thalmor’s electricity illuminated Fadali, wiping blood off her blade.

  Mrrsizha blinked rapidly in surprise at Fadali’s sudden appearance, sitting up a little, only to be snapped out of it when the high elf hissed, “ _You!_ ” She had backed away from Fadali once she saw her, towards Mrrsizha, and was readying her spell; before she could do anything else, the Khajiit moved to catch her throat, pulling her back.

  “No,” she said simply, before her blade slipped up, under the mage’s ribcage.

  She made a short, strangled noise, and when Mrrsizha let her fall, it wasn’t long before she was still. The Khajiit looked up at Fadali, gasping, “What are _you_ doing here?”

  “What am _I_ doing here?” Fadali gestured with her dagger, then put her free hand on her hip. “ _Really?_ You just disappeared on me without saying anything and you’re wondering why I… _ugh. Really?_ ” She sighed before Mrrsizha could answer, then pointed at the dead woman with her dagger. “Okay, fine, so we killed some Thalmor. I’m not complaining, but…um, why?”

  Mrrsizha huffed out a little breath between her teeth, bending to wipe blood off her blade before sheathing it. “I don’t like Thalmor,” she said simply, turning the woman over to pat her down. There was more to it—she didn’t like racists, and while she might not be from Elsweyr, she was still _Khajiit_ , and she didn’t like anyone who manipulated her own people into servitude that was little better than slavery—but it wasn’t important, and if Fadali didn’t ask, she wasn’t going to bother explaining.

  Fadali shrugged, sliding her dagger back into its sheath. “Alright, fair enough. Who does, though? Other Thalmor, I guess. Can’t imagine anyone else does…”

  Mrrsizha didn’t answer, looking up. “You killed the other guard?”

  “Yeah. You got the first one?”

  Mrrsizha just nodded, before she turned her attention back to the dead woman. She emptied her pockets of everything in them, then, after a moment’s though, undid her robe. Whatever else she could say about the Thalmor, their armor—or, in the mages’ case, robes—were valuable, so there was no point leaving them here to rot. The blood would probably come out.

  Fadali had arched an eyebrow when she stood, folding the robe up. Mrrsizha cocked her head questioningly, but Fadali just shrugged. “I guess you’ll be taking the armor, too.”

  “No reason to leave it,” Mrrsizha answered. “They’re not using it.”

  Fadali shrugged again. “Well, when you’re done robbing the dead, I’ll be on the road, okay?”

  “It’s hardly robbery,” Mrrsizha muttered, a little put out, as Fadali walked off; the elf didn’t answer, and she huffed out a quiet breath, tucking the robe into her bag before she went to find the bodyguards’ bodies.

 _Robbery requires **effort,**_ she added in her head, since Fadali wasn’t there to hear it.

  Fadali was easy enough to find once she was done, since she’d lit the lantern at her hip. She looked up as Mrrsizha approached, wiping blood off her hands with an old rag she’d found in her bag.

  “So we can go now?” Mrrsizha nodded, and Fadali added, “Good. I don’t want to be too close when they start to smell.”

  The Khajiit snorted a little in amusement, but said nothing, following Fadali back down the road. After a few minutes of silence, Fadali glanced back at her.

  “You’re so quiet.”

  Mrrsizha looked up when Fadali spoke, blinking at her in silent surprise. She’d been making plans for how to offload the Thalmor gear without too much suspicion—though, as long as she was in the right hold, nobody would question or care where she’d gotten everything—and been caught up in her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “When you walk,” Fadali clarified. “You’re so quiet, even when you’re not trying to be. And you’re so good at disappearing, too. I didn’t even follow _you_ , you know, I followed _them_ …you were there, and then you were just _gone._ How do you _do_ that?”

  Mrrsizha blinked for a moment, unsure how to answer. She had always been quiet, ever since she was a cub; trying to explain _how_ she did it was like trying to explain how she breathed.

  “I just…practice, I guess?” She shrugged lightly, her tail tip flicking briefly. “I don’t know. I just…do.”

  Fadali was quiet for a moment, frowning a little.

  “That must be useful,” she said finally. Mrrsizha just made a quiet sound in her throat in response.

  After a few moments, she sighed, then added expectantly, “…and?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Fadali answered, deceptively cheerful— _particularly since they’d just murdered a few people,_ Mrrsizha thought dryly. _Though, at least they were Thalmor._ “Just, I was thinking, it would be _so nice_ if I had a really stealthy friend who could teach me her tricks. That would be _incredibly_ useful. You know, in general.”

  Mrrsizha resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Fadali looked down at her, batting her eyelashes. “…I don’t think I’d be much good at teaching,” she answered, slowly, folding her ears back and frowning a little. Fadali snorted, waving a hand.

  “Nonsense, I’m a good learner, I bet we could work something out.” She paused, pouted, and batted her eyelashes again, more obviously. “I mean. _If_ you were the sort of amazing person who would do that.”

  Mrrsizha sighed. “Point taken, Fadali.” She sped up for a few steps, until she was beside Fadali, and began, “Well, a lot of it is just about how you move…”

 

* * *

 

  It took another day to reach Whiterun, and most of that day was spent with Mrrsizha attempting to teaching Fadali the meaning of subtlety _._ She was almost sure it was a hopeless cause—the Dunmer wasn’t very good at subtle, as she herself observed sometime around lunch—but, still, she had managed to figure out how to move more quietly. You could tell it wasn’t natural yet—she was too careful about it, frowning in concentration as she walked rather than doing it automatically, the way Mrrsizha did—but that would come with time.

  All in all, it was more of a success than Mrrsizha expected, mostly. She still thought teaching Fadali how to escape notice entirely would be completely out of the question—she wasn’t a woman who _wanted_ to be unnoticed—but maybe they could still work with her personality; drawing attention _away_ from things you didn’t want people to see was its own kind of stealth, after all, though not one Mrrsizha was well-versed in.

  It was clear once they were within the bounds of the city of Whiterun: sprawling farms stretched out around it, and there was a meadery tucked amongst them, by the river that ran alongside the city. The White River, Mrrsizha thought, though she’d had little reason to remember its name before. Guards clad in Whiterun’s yellow patrolled the roads, and there were other people going about their business: travelers, farmers, merchants, and other workers she couldn’t place immediately. It was calming, to be back in the presence of people, even if they hadn’t quite found a proper crowd yet.

  They had just passed the farms and were on the outskirts of the city itself when Mrrsizha heard someone hurrying down the road towards them. She had barely had a chance to half-turn towards the sound, ears pricking, before she heard, ”There you are! Dunmer! I’ve been looking for you.”

  Fadali had looked up automatically, and it turned out she was the one being called for, as a quick glance around proved there were no other Dunmer nearby. Fadali blinked in surprise as a young Nord man—a courier, by his attire and the large bag slung across his torso—came to a stop in front of her. “For…me?”

  He nodded, looking down to dig through his bag. “Yes, just a moment…ah. Here we go.” He pulled out a folded paper, sealed with a blob of unmarked black wax, and held it out to her.

  Fadali took the paper, frowning in confusion, and asked slowly, “Who sent this?” The courier gave a slight shrug.

  “Don’t know. Didn’t see his face, he had this dark hood.” He glanced away briefly and his brows drew together in a little frown before he added in a quieter voice, “Paid me a little extra not to ask questions and said it was urgent. Honestly, I wasn’t willing to look too long, anyway. He made me a little uneasy. I know it’s just a letter, but if I were you? I’d be careful.” He shrugged again, then finished, “Anyway, though, that was it. I have to get going.” He tipped his head to them briefly, then turned and left.

  Fadali pursed her lips, frowning in silence as she broke the wax seal. She looked down as she unfolded the note, and just blinked at the paper for a moment.

  In the center of the page was a black handprint. Underneath it were two words in dark, deliberate strokes:

**_We Know_ **

 

  Mrrsizha’s ears folded back, her fur lifting as a chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather. Fadali exhaled slowly.

  “Creepy,” she said finally, her voice low.

  “We know what?” Mrrsizha asked, her voice soft. She glanced up, darting her eyes around them, but there was nobody else in sight that drew her attention: just normal people, going about their day and paying the two of them no mind. Fadali shook her head.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” She folded the paper back up, clearing her throat. “Let’s just…let’s go. It’s probably nothing.”

  Mrrsizha didn’t answer as Fadali turned to continue towards the city. She frowned in silence down the road they’d come from, then finally turned to follow the elf.

  It was only a few minutes later when Fadali spoke up again, though, and completely erased any thoughts of the ominous letter from Mrrsizha’s mind.

  “Oh, look. The caravan’s in town.”

  Mrrsizha’s head snapped up at the statement, her ears and whiskers pricking forward. Sure enough, near the Whiterun’s stables and close to its walls, was the unmistakable camp of a Khajiit caravan. Mrrsizha felt a wave of nostalgia and longing as she watched the Khajiit finish setting up their camp; she didn’t regret leaving her caravan, not really, but sometimes she missed it.

  Her eyes flicked over the other Khajiit as they got close, trying to pick out faces she recognized. She knew all the Khajiit caravans—they’d met up often enough in her youth for her to be familiar with them, though the individuals varied now and then—so it was just a matter of figuring out _which_ caravan this was. She was already composing a letter to her parents in her head, trying to sum up everything that had happened since the last one she’d sent. One of the women looked up, wiping her brow—she was an Ohmes, so unlike most Khajiit, she actually sweated through more than her pads—and Mrrsizha’s breath caught in her throat.

  “ _Mama!_ ” She was only vaguely aware of Fadali yelping her name when she broke into a run. The Ohmes looked up when Mrrsizha called, her ears pricking, then broke into a wide grin.

  “Mrrsizha!” She only managed to take a few steps towards her before Mrrsizha caught up to her, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug and butting her forehead against her mother’s. Tsairra pushed her back a second later, reaching up to brush her ears and hair back before cupping her face. “Khajiit has been so worried about you, kitten! Oh…” Her expression fell, her brows pulling together, and she reached up to trace the scars across the top of Mrrsizha’s muzzle. “Your nose! What happened?”

  Before Mrrsizha could answer, Tsairra looked up suddenly; Mrrsizha was about to turn to see what had caught her attention when a pair of strong arms encircled her chest, pinning her own arms to her sides. Mrrsizha meowed shrilly when they lifted her clear off the ground, and a blunt muzzle bumped against the top of her head.

  “Kitten finally decided to come home, did she?” Mrrsizha yowled in reply and her father laughed, deep and rich, before putting her down. “Good. Jodhirr was about to go find her himself.”

  Mrrsizha huffed shortly in response, turning to face him as Jodhirr bent to bump his forehead against hers. He was a Cathay, much taller and more muscular than either her or her mother, and when he folded his arms around her in a proper hug, Mrrsizha felt like she was disappearing into fur and cloth and the scent of _home_.

  “He _wouldn’t_ have found Mrrsizha if she didn’t want him to,” she answered with a grin, her voice muffled against his chest. Jodhirr snorted, nuzzling her before he pushed her back to look down at her.

  “Mrrsizha is not as clever as she thinks she is. Jodhirr knows her scent better than his own; he would have found her.”

  Tsairra interrupted before she could reply, her voice huffy and tense. “Where has Mrrsizha _been?_ ”

  Mrrsizha looked up, her ears folding. “All over. Whiterun. Windhelm. Riften. Have her letters not arrived?”

  “They arrived,” Jodhirr answered for his wife, frowning a little, and he still hadn’t let Mrrsizha go, his hands clasped around her shoulders, “but so much time between them, Mrrsizha. Plenty of time for too-clever kittens to get into trouble. Khajiit was worried.”

  Mrrsizha snorted, leaning forward to bump her head against her father’s chest before looking up at him. “Khajiit worries too much. Mrrsizha is cleverer than he thinks.”

  “But still our kitten,” Tsairra retorted. “Khajiit is going to worry, and Mrrsizha had best accept that, yes?”

  Before Mrrsizha could answer, there was a little sigh behind her, lacking the purring tone of a Khajiit voice. The three of them looked up to find Fadali standing a little ways away, having finally caught up to her.

  “Well, I’m going to guess you know each other…” She lifted her eyebrows, looking between them before he eyes settled on Mrrsizha. The Khajiit coughed awkwardly when she realized how this must have looked from Fadali’s point of view: her just running off without a word of explanation.

  “Ah. Yes.” She gestured at Fadali, continuing to her parents, “This is Fadali, a friend Mrrsizha met in Windhelm.” She glanced between them, doing her best to ignore her father’s raised brow, and added, “And these are Mrrsizha’s parents, Jodhirr and Tsairra.”

  Fadali gave a little nod. “Nice to meet you.” She quirked an eyebrow at Mrrsizha, adding, “And you’re talking like a Khajiit now, that’s weird. Why don’t you do that all the time?”

  Mrrsizha grinned sheepishly. “Ah. It’s, ah, habit. Mrrsi… _I_ sometimes…slip back into it. Around other Khajiit.”

  “Right…” Fadali shrugged lightly with a little smile, then took a step back. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll get out of the way and let you catch up. I’ll be in the city if you want to find me later, alright Mrr? Just don’t leave town without me or anything. Don’t worry, I can keep myself amused.”

  Mrrsizha nodded and Fadali took another step back before turning. Suddenly remembering the note, Mrrsizha called, “Be careful!”

  Fadali laughed shortly and made a dismissive gesture over her shoulder. Behind Mrrsizha, Jodhirr made a little noise, huffy but amused.

  “Kitten is making elf friends now. How odd.” When she looked at him, he grinned for a moment, then reached up to ruffle her hair. “You always were an odd cub, Mrrsizha.”

  Mrrsizha snorted. “She’s not so bad, for an elf.” She looked up when Tsairra took hold of her shoulders, pulling her away from Jodhirr and steering her towards the center of the camp.

  “Well, Mrrsizha can tell us all about her elf friends, and what else has been happening to her, yes? It’s been so long since we last saw you, kitten! You have a lot to make up for!”

  Mrrsizha didn’t even bother to put up a token resistance, breaking into a grin and allowing her mother to shoo her off into the camp.

  It hadn’t taken long for the other Khajiit to recognize her, and after exchanging greetings and hugs, Mrrsizha found herself by the campfire, reciting everything of minor interest that had happened to her since she’d left. There wasn’t much, she thought—it had been a fairly unremarkable two years—but between her parents and her friends, she ended up summarizing most of it anyway, lingering on the most exciting parts longest: risky, daring thefts, near-escapes, and the few times she’d ventured out of the cities to explore an old ruin or cave—which, more often than not, didn’t lead to much reward, so she exaggerated it a bit. That made the stories more interesting, anyway.

  She ended up allowing herself to be talked into spending the night with the caravan—“at least one night, kitten” her mother had said, and how could Mrrsizha possibly refuse?—and come midnight, she was dozing in her parents’ tent, listening to them sleep and breathing in the scent of home.

  Absently, she hoped Fadali was alright. _She must be, though,_ she reasoned. The dark elf knew where she was, after all, so if something had come up, she knew how to find her. Besides, she could certainly take care of herself.

  The Khajiit sighed softly, then snuggled into her blankets and resolved to put it out of her mind. There was no reason to worry about her.

 

* * *

 

    She only managed to extract herself from her caravan by noon the next day, after staying for lunch and letting her mother fuss over her for almost half an hour when she finally insisted she really _did_ have to go. She promised to visit every day she was in Whiterun, and to write as soon as she could and as often as possible, and was frankly just relieved she managed to make her escape before her parents realized she’d left some of the money she’d earned in Riften secreted amongst their things. The caravan needed it more than she did, and while they wouldn’t argue—much, probably—she still didn’t want to risk it. Besides, if she wasn’t careful, she’d probably end up allowing herself to be talked into staying even longer.

  It was only when she made it through Whiterun’s gates that she allowed herself to relax with a little breath, smiling to herself. It was unlikely any of the Khajiit from her caravan would follow her into the city; most caravan Khajiit weren’t that daring, since the guards would probably recognize them. In any case, guards treated every Khajiit with suspicion when a caravan was in town; Mrrsizha tried to ignore the eyes on her as she made her way down the street, alert for any sign of Fadali. It wasn’t like it mattered if they watched her now: she wasn’t doing anything illegal. Yet.

  Her search for Fadali led her to one of Whiterun’s largest and oldest taverns: the Bannered Mare, which was right beside the marketplace and one of the first places a traveller might think to end up. More importantly, Fadali’s scent led there, faint though it was. Or something very much like Fadali’s scent; there were other Dunmer in the city, of course, and it could have been one of them, but Mrrsizha didn’t think so. It wasn’t busy when she arrived, so she wasn’t waiting by the counter long before the owner came over to see what she needed.

  “Something I can get you?” Mrrsizha only knew a little about the woman: her name was Hulda, she’d been running the Bannered Mare for as long as Mrrsizha could remember, and she was a nice enough woman. At least, she’d never been outright rude to her, and that was good enough.

  “Hopefully. I’m looking for a friend, actually, and I think she may have stopped in here?”

  Hulda paused for a moment, frowning in thought. “We haven’t seen any other Khajiit recently,” she began, before Mrrsizha cut her off.

  “No, she’s not a Khajiit. A dark elf. Her name’s Fadali. Black hair, tall, a bit thin? Dark clothing? She would have been in here late yesterday, I think? Possibly today?” She sighed, then added, “I’m sorry, she didn’t say where we should meet up, but…”

  “Oh! Her. Yes, I remember her. She was the one who started a fight with Vilkas.” Hulda tipped her head slightly, adding, “One of the Companions. They stop in here sometimes when they get tired of each other.”

  Mrrsizha’s ears snapped back and she felt her heart do a nervous little flop, the lingering good mood from meeting up with her caravan suddenly vanishing. _One of the Companions?_ She didn’t know a lot about the Companions of Whiterun, but she knew them by reputation: all warriors, fierce and proud and honorable, and exactly the sort of people Mrrsizha didn’t want to associate with, if she could help it. _Anyone_ who had been to Whiterun knew about them; anyone in _Skyrim_ knew of them. _And Fadali had—?!_

  “Ah,” she answered, distantly aware of the tight tone her voice had taken on. “So she’s dead, then.” _Dammit._

  Hulda laughed at that, and shook her head. “No, your friend was fine, last I saw her. It was the damnedest thing. I wasn’t listening, so I didn’t catch what it was about, but he said something—or she did—and the next thing I know, he challenged her to a fight. I thought she’d back down, most people do. But no, she just got to her feet and said she’d ‘go easy on him’.” Hulda gave a little shrug. “I was pretty sure I’d have to get someone to come scrape her off the floor, then, but as soon as he said go, she moved—quick as a flash—and punched him right in the coin purse. Doesn’t matter who he is, a good hit like that will take any man down.”

  Hulda cleared her throat, continuing, “Anyway, I didn’t catch much after that. Heard her offering to ‘make it up’ to him…” She paused to give Mrrsizha a meaningful look. “…and they disappeared into one of the rooms. She must have been very apologetic, since he seemed pretty pleased when he left. Don’t recall if I saw her after, though, but things were a bit busy last night, aside from that show. I’m sorry.”

  Mrrsizha cleared her throat, a little awkward. _That did sound like something Fadali might do, though. I leave her alone for a second…_ “Right. Well, thank you anyway. I’ll see if I can find her somewhere else.”

  “Might want to go check in at Jorrvaskr,” Hulda added as she stepped away, “and see if you can find Vilkas. He did see your friend last, after all, and I’m sure she made an impression on him one way or another. Good luck, Khajiit.”

  Mrrsizha nodded, turning to leave, and let out a nervous little mew when she stepped back out into Whiterun’s market.

  She had no interest in visiting Jorrvaskr—in fact, she was extremely interested in _not_ visiting Jorrvaskr. _She has to turn up somewhere,_ she told herself. _How far could she have gotten?_ So, instead, she followed the dark elf’s dwindling scent as far as she could from the Bannered Mare, hoping they would run across each other.

  It led her back to Whiterun’s gates, and then the Bannered Mare again, but nowhere else; either she simply hadn’t _gone_ anywhere else, or she’d managed to do so without leaving her scent behind, and Mrrsizha was certain it wasn’t the latter. It was rare that anyone except Khajiit thought to mask their scent, and in any case, she had no reason to be hiding. Right?

  Unless it had something to do with that letter she’d gotten…

  Mrrsizha sighed as she made her way to Whiterun’s Wind District, which housed the homes of its rich families, the Temple of Kynareth, and stood before the immense palace of Dragonsreach, rising out of the city from the Cloud District—and, most importantly, it was also the location of Jorrvaskr, dominating the right side of the district. She stopped by the towering Gildergreen, at the center of where all the city’s roads met: the Temple of Kynareth was just beside it, in front of the residential area of the Wind District, Dragonsreach behind, and the road back to the markets in front. She had been sitting there for a few minutes, listening to the wind through the tree’s bare branches and wondering what she was supposed to do.

  Jorrvaskr towered on the nearby hill, imposing and impossible to miss, and she tried not to stare at it.

  “It’s not as bad as all that.” She looked up in surprise, ears pricking, when someone else sat down next to her on the bench: a dark elf, in strange armor and smiling lopsidedly at her. His smile was lopsided due to the deep scars crossing his face—they looked like claw marks—and she wondered what had happened to him.

  “What?”

  “Jorrvaskr.” He jerked his head towards the building. “You were staring at it, looking all troubled, and it’s not _that_ terrible.” His voice was very deep, and very rough, the sort you heard from Dunmer who had been born and raised in Morrowind. She blinked at him in surprise, trying to come up with a response, and her eyes dropped to his armor for a second.

  It wasn’t a particularly heavy sort, and looked to be made of leather and…well, something that resembled a beetle’s shell more than anything else she could think of. Though, if he _was_ from Morrowind, she supposed that might not be unusual: she’d heard Morrowind had many more large insects than anywhere else, so many that they replaced the livestock you found in other provinces. It was trimmed in dark fur—wolf, by the look and smell—and a snarling wolf, etched in steel, had been worked into his belt buckle. A war axe hung at his hip, also steel, but etched with swirling patterns she wasn’t used to seeing, but had heard of; between the wolf motif, his weapon, and the way he talked about Jorrvaskr…

  “You’re a Companion?”

  She must have sounded surprised, since he laughed. “Yeah. One of the only two Dunmer. We stick out.” He cocked his head, ears flicking. “Is it that surprising?”

  “Yes…no…I—“ Mrrsizha took a breath. “I…needed to talk to a Companion. V…Vilkas, I think his name was.”

  “Vilkas?” The Dunmer sat up a little, his brows lifting slightly. “My condolences, then.” He glanced towards Jorrvaskr, then back at her, and his expression softened a little. “…would you like me to fetch him?”

  “…if you don’t mind,” she said, very quiet, folding her ears back. He smiled again, and stood.

  “Anything for a pretty girl.”

  She snorted softly to herself as he left, wondering what he thought he would get out of trying to charm her; she knew better. Still, if he saved her having to approach Jorrvaskr herself, she could forgive him.

  The dark elf was gone for a few moments, and when he returned, it was with a tall Nord man, dark-haired and frowning, just a little, like he was mildly irritated at something. His armor was heavier than the elf’s, and more typically Nordic, made of heavy steel and decorated with the lupine designs the Companions favored. His eyes were light—grey, probably—and surrounded by dark paint that made them stand out. Mrrsizha was quietly happy the elf was there and she had an ally—of some sort—because she wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him on her own.

  “You wanted to talk to me, Khajiit?” The Nord raised an eyebrow when he saw her—probably realizing he’d never seen her in his life, and that he had no idea why she wanted to see him—and Mrrsizha stood. She was uncomfortably aware of how tall he was. At least he wasn’t armed, for what it was worth.

  “Yes. I…” She took a breath, trying to steel her nerves. It wasn’t easy: Companions intimidated her, _Vilkas_ seemed especially intimidating for one, and she’d been worrying about Fadali for a few hours now, which threw her off-kilter to begin with.

  “It’s my friend, Fadali. I haven’t seen her in hours, and…you were the last person who did.” She swallowed. “She’s a dark elf. Tall, black hair—“

  “The one from the Mare?” He made a quiet noise in his throat she couldn’t quite identify. She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. _Good, that was good._ “Aye, I remember her. Haven’t seen her since, though, and she was fine when I left.”

  “The one who punched you?” Vilkas glanced towards the elf as he spoke up from where he’d been leaning against one of the decorative lattices surrounding the Gildergreen, then grunted in answer. The dark elf was grinning, though. “Oh, I’m _sure_ she was fine.”

  “Quiet, whelp.” Vilkas sighed, turning his attention back to Mrrsizha. “Can’t say I know where she is, Khajiit. I’m sorry.”

  Mrrsizha’s heart sank and she let out her breath. “Oh.” She sighed, tail drooping, then started to turn away. “Alright. Th…thank you anyway.” _Now what?_

  “Wait.” She looked back up when Vilkas spoke again. He let out a breath. “You said she’s been gone a few hours? You think she’s in trouble?”

  “I…don’t know.” Mrrsizha thought of the note again, uneasily. _If I were you? I’d be careful._ “But…usually, I could find her on my own. And now…she’s disappeared, and nobody has seen her.” She shrugged, a little helplessly, and Vilkas made a low noise in his throat.

  He looked back towards the dark elf, who raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Whelp. You may as well make yourself useful, if you’re going to just stand there.”

  “You think _I_ can find her?” The dark elf’s ears twitched in surprise and he straightened a little.

  “Unless you’re ready to admit that Aela’s the better tracker, yes,” Vilkas answered, with a tone that suggested this was an old argument between them. “Or should I just go get her instead?”

  The dark elf pushed himself off the lattice, crossing his arms with an indignant frown. “You think I can’t find one Dunmer woman? We’re not a subtle people, and she certainly didn’t seem to be. I’ll have her back before you can even tell Aela the story.”

  Mrrsizha thought she saw a wry little smile on Vilkas’ face, before the Dunmer stepped past him. “Come on, then. What was your name? Let’s go find your friend, before _mine_ thinks I’ve lost all my skill.”

  “Mrrsizha,” she answered, following him back towards the marketplace. He paused for a second on the stairs between the Plains and Wind Districts, glancing at her.

  “Mrrsi…no offense, but do you mind if I just call you ‘Khajiit’?” She shook her head, and he added, “Sondas. Though, if you want to make it even and just call me ‘elf’, I won’t mind. You won’t be the first. Where did you see her last?”

  “Outside the city…but I know she went to the Bannered Mare, because…”

  “…she punched Vilkas, I know. I was there. You should’ve seen it. You already talked to Hulda?” When she nodded again, Sondas’ ears flicked. “Hm. Well, maybe she remembers something else, now. Won’t hurt to check, right?”

  Mrrsizha didn’t answer, silently doubting it, but when they stepped back into the Bannered Mare and Hulda noticed them, she called, “Oh, Khajiit!”

  Sondas glanced down at her, eyebrows lifting, but said nothing as they walked over to the bar. Hulda had been cleaning the top, but she put her rag down to lean across it when they got close, and nodded briefly in greeting to Sondas.

  “You still looking for your elf friend?” Mrrsizha nodded, and Hulda continued, “After you left, I thought of something else…not sure if it’s important or not. I think I remember seeing her again, with another dark elf. I didn’t know her, but she had white hair, and was wearing dark clothing…a friend of hers, maybe?”

  Mrrsizha frowned, thinking. She didn’t know many Dunmer herself, but Fadali must. Maybe they were friends? It was possible. “I…maybe. If she is, I don’t know her.”

  “Well, I don’t remember her being here long…like I said, it was a busy night, but she stuck out. And I can’t remember seeing your friend again after she was gone. Maybe they left together?”

  Mrrsizha’s ears lowered at that. “Maybe.” The courier had said whoever sent the note was a man, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have accomplices. _“We know.” Who is “we”?_

  “Well, thank you, Hulda. That’s actually exactly why we were here.” Sondas started towards the door, calling back, “Have a good night!”

  Mrrsizha sighed when they were back out in the marketplace, looking up at Sondas. “Well. That was helpful.”

  He snorted a little. “More than you think.” He looked down at her. “I have a pretty good idea of the other Dunmer who live here. There isn’t one with white hair that I know of. So, she must be from somewhere else. Anyway, you’d be able to smell your friend if she was in the city, right? I figured that was how you were tracking her.”

  Mrrsizha opened her mouth, blinking in surprise, then nodded. “I…yes. How…?”

  He chuckled. “I was a hunter before I was a Companion. Still am when I have the time. You learn a lot about animals that way. Ah, no offense. But in my experience, cats have a good sense of smell.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, so we’ll go ask Skulvar if he’s seen someone matching that description, down at the stables—if they left, he probably noticed. And if they didn’t, somehow, then they’re still somewhere in the city. Easy enough, right?”

  Mrrsizha just frowned, but nodded, and followed him towards Whiterun’s gates, uneasy.


End file.
